Love Me Less, Love Me More
by Faux Puissant
Summary: Alfred is just a sophomore in college, just living an average life. It's weird to think that it all changed so quickly... UKxUS Vampire!Arthur. Human Names. Rated T for now.
1. The Pea Coat

Hey lovelies, I was role playing with my pet Seahorse and this idea came to light. One night of messing around and laughs at Al and Artie's expense turned into a full blown story with a plot and everything . I know right?

Well, I usually shy away from making anything larger then one shots. I'm afraid I won't finish it and leave my readers hanging…. But this… this one would not leave me alone until I sat down and began to fill out pages (you think I'm kidding), _pages _of story lines and character plans and sketches and conflict theories and goals and beginnings and a somewhat finish! Regardless to say, after yammering to my pet Seahorse about my plans for a week she told me to belt up and write it already (though in a much softer tone).

So here you go, enough of me talking.

Until later lovelies,

~Ying

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><p>"<em>Love isn't any less just because you don't recognize it sometimes." ~ Katie Dickerson<em>

Prologue ~ The Pea Coat

"Can you imagine no first dance, freeze dried romance, five-hour phone conversation, the best soy latte that you ever had and … me?" Alfred belted the lyrics of the worn out classic as he turned down another road. His head bobbed steadily as he took another deep breath to launch himself into the chorus, right foot goosing the gas as he started traveling down a long lonely, stretch of road. The dingy red jeep took the roads imperfections with ease as the American turned up the music when the next song came on. He began singing along with Van Morrison as if he were a long time friend sitting next to him in his two seater vehicle. Under the blaring music Alfred could hear the wind howling past his black soft top and he shivered even with the heater turned on full blast. He hated the cold. Especially since night had fallen long ago and the warmth of the sun had been chased away by the persistent wind chill and light powdering of snow that had been falling steadily all day. It had only been a dusting, most of it melting before it could stay on the ground long, but now a few inches of the white was accenting the edges of the black roads as Alfred drove down the highway.

He leaned back in his seat fully, taking one of his hands off the black pleather steering wheel so he could grab his Big Gulp from the cup holder. He sucked Dr. Pepper from the jumbo red straw and relished in his chilled carbonated pop. Taking his eyes off the road for a moment he wedged his too big plastic cup carefully into it's holder so he wouldn't have a sticky mess to deal with. One infestation of tiny black sugar ants was enough to rid Alfred of leaving his fast food wrappers and partially empty plastic cups in the jeep. Spilling sugary liquid all over his floor would only be asking for trouble.

He had just placed his drink down when he felt his phone vibrating against his thigh. Alfred awkwardly lifted his hips, trying to simultaneously fish his phone out of his front pocket without pushing his foot harder on the gas petal. He finally pulled his phone out and glanced at the contact before pressing 'answer' and holding it up to his ear, balancing the phone on his shoulder for a moment so he could turn the volume down.

"What's up?" He asked casually, frowning when he looked up ahead and notice the tall street lamps on the road were dark. Weird. Was the snow already knocking out the power?

"Ma chère…" His roommate sighed into his ear, "Où êtes-vous?"

"Um…" Alfred racked his brain for the French phrases that Francis was constantly trying to teach him. It wasn't uncommon for Francis to start blathering to him in his native tongue, and now that Alfred was taking French as one of his classes, the foreigner was doing it consistently. He supposed he should be grateful; he was actually doing well in the class because of Francis, but it didn't change the fact that it was irritating sometimes.

"Je suis sur… um… la root?" He struggled.

"Je suis sur la _route, _Alfred. _Route. _That was very good. 'Owever, you still need to learn to stop dragging your pronunciation," Francis critiqued. Alfred almost commented that Francis usually butchered the English language by speaking through his accent, but decided against it when his roommate's voice sounded through the earpiece again. "Why are you still on ze road Alfred? Don't tell me you're just now going home? What about ze party?"

Alfred sighed, bracing the steering wheel with his knee so he could grab his soda for another drink. "Francis, I'm totally wiped out. I had to pull a double shift, plus I have to finish revising my speech for class tomorrow."

He had actually revised his speech twice already, seeing as Mrs. Banes was a complete bitch and he didn't want to take any chances on her giving him a bad grade. The woman was of Welsh origin, looked old enough to be looking forward to grandchildren, and had a permanent sneer on her hard-lined face. Feliks, a rather effeminate male, study mate, and friend, hated her almost as much as Alfred did. More often then not the platinum blonde followed up her lectures by storming out of the classroom besides Alfred. Ranting bitterly with a brisk flip of his iron straitened hair that the woman needed to either pull the stick out of her ass or get "fucking laid already".

"I want to come, but I've gotta get home. Should I leave the front door unlocked for you and Gil or are you staying somewhere else?"

He could practically hear Francis pouting on the other line. "Alfred, I worry about you. You work too 'ard. You do know zat right?"

The American shrugged, but answered when he realized that Francis couldn't see the gesture. "Don't worry about me. I'll come out with you and Gil some other time. I just have to get through this semester first. Some of these classes are kicking my ass."

"Alright, alright." Francis gave up, sighing again. "You can go ahead and lock up. Zat albino has already made plans to go home with zat beautiful 'ungarian girl and as for moi…" He trailed off with something Alfred usually referred to as Francis's rape laugh. "I will find someone to spend the night with."

I.e. Francis was getting laid tonight.

"Well, have fun with that. Be safe," Alfred chuckled, rolling his eyes at his roommate's blatant depravity.

"Bonne nuit, mon cher."

Alfred hit 'end call' and blindly stuck his phone into the vacant cup holder in front of his soda.

He suddenly noticed how dark the roads were with the streetlamps knocked out and immediately turned up the music so his radio blared in the small cabin of his jeep. It was still creepy driving by himself on the near pitch black road… Next to the woods... Around midnight…

Alfred changed the channel of the radio until he found a song he was familiar with. He then began singing along loudly to a popular song by Eminem, hardly hitting the blurred-together words correctly but feeling less afraid while singing along with the radio.

His headlights cutting through the darkness and the reflectors on the road along with passing road signs were the only thing that really stood out in the darkness. He was thankful the road only lasted for fifteen miles, already able to see lights up ahead for his exit Songs came and went and he was grateful for the pleasant distraction.

Something caught his eye in the pitch of night and he squinted light blue eyes to try and see what it was.

Someone was standing in the middle of the road.

Alfred's heart lodged itself in his throat and he slammed on the brakes as hard as he could while sharply turning the wheel. The ice and snow on the road made his vehicle fishtail sideways and keep going, hitting the person with a loud _thunk_ and coming to a stop a dozen or so meters away. Half of his jeep ended up on the road and half on the shoulder.

Alfred sat there, stunned and shaken to his core, his breaths coming in sharp, painful jabs and his stomach churning unpleasantly. He could clearly hear Bruno Mars singing mournfully about someone's Daddy being unable to look him in the eye. His thoughts buzzed in his head, almost drowning out the popular song.

He had just hit someone.

He had just hit someone with his jeep.

He had been going too fast, hadn't he?

He had probably just killed someone.

That thought alone almost had Alfred vomiting right into his lap, but he swallowed thickly and pulled his hands from their death grip on the steering wheel. He took a few deep breaths and tried to rationalize with himself. If the person _was_ still alive he needed to get out of the car, assess the damage, and call an ambulance right away. He couldn't just sit here like an idiot. God forbid another car or truck come through and run the person over a second time.

If he was dead… Alfred swallowed. Well, he needed to call an ambulance regardless.

He unbuckled his seatbelt with numb fingers and fumbled in his glove box for his emergency flashlight, grabbing it quickly before snatching his phone out of the cup holder. His drink had miraculously managed to stay put in place, the lid keeping all of its contents within the plastic container. He took another deep breath, and opened the car door, leaving his jeep running and the headlights on. The cold seemed to penetrate his body like a knife and Alfred gritted his teeth against the icy blast, his teeth clicking together as his stomach trembled within him. Flashlight in hand, Alfred scanned the road and saw a body laying on its side facing away from him. He gulped down a lump in his throat and tentatively neared the body. Nothing seemed to be bent at an odd angle, nor was there a giant pool of blood like Alfred was half expecting. As the teenager got closer he realized that it was a guy. Alfred walked around the man so he could look at his face, careful not to touch or move him in case his spine had been fractured. He got on his knees and saw that there was blood. There wasn't quarts of it like Alfred's imagination had grotesquely conjured up, but enough to where it was trickling across his forehead from his hairline and pooling on the freezing black tarmac. He reached down to cup his hand in front of the man's nose and mouth to see if he could feel any breath. The man's face grimaced before Alfred's hand even came close, and his mouth parted in a groan. Alfred yelped and fell back onto his rear.

Green eyes blinked open and a thin hand came up to feel an injured forehead. "Fucking hell," The man snarled, wincing when his fingers came in contact with his bleeding scalp.

Alfred stammered, absolutely taken aback that the man was alive, let alone conscious and _talking. _He sat there with his mouth opening and closing uselessly for a moment until the man saw him and began pushing himself up into a sitting position.

"Wait!" Alfred gently pushed the man back down onto the road. "Don't get up. We don't know if anything is broken yet. Hold on, I'll call an ambulance and-"

"That won't be necessary, thank you," the man cut in, giving Alfred a stern look and pushing himself up again. Alfred pushed him back down while getting up onto his own feet, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket as he went.

"No, you don't understand! I- I just hit you with my car." Alfred felt stupid for stating the obvious, and even more foolish when the man leveled an impatient look at Alfred. Almost as if he was imploring him without words to get the point already. "I mean, I tried to brake but I hit you and I want to make sure you're okay. I'll get you to a hospital ri-"

The man's hand shot up and grabbed Alfred's wrist with enough force to startle the teenager into fumbling his cellular and almost dropping it.

"I _said_ that won't be necessary, boy," he man all but growled, "Now help me up."

Alfred was about to tell him, again, that he really shouldn't move but the man simply used Alfred's wrist as leverage to pull himself up into a vertical position. The college student watched, eyes wide and confused, as the man simply dusted himself off. He made it appear as if being violently struck by a vehicle was as graciously forgiven as bumping into someone with your cart at a grocery. Alfred stumbled over his musings, not sure how to properly react in this situation. Could he act as nonchalantly as the man in front of him? Would that be rude?

Alfred was so caught up in his thoughts that it took a moment to realize that the man was gone. Alfred spluttered and looked back and forth before his flashlight landed on the man walking on the side of the road.

"Hey!"

The man turned around and Alfred jogged to meet him, gesturing wildly to the surroundings. "What the hell are you doing out here, man? It's, like, twenty some odd degrees and you're walking down a highway in the dark?"

The man raised a thick eyebrow - a very thick eyebrow, Alfred noticed - and answered with an equally thick accent that Alfred was too wired to notice at first. "Yes, I am. I'm simply out taking a stroll, not that it's any concern of yours."

Alfred blinked and was struck by the bizarreness of the situation. He looked down at the man and finally saw him clearly. The man was obviously not from around these parts and was dressed smartly in grey slacks and an expensive-looking black pea coat. A green and white striped scarf hung around his neck and almost reached his now scuffed, dress shoes. Shoes, Alfred noticed, that looked like they had a brand name that Francis would both know and wear proudly. His outfit seemed to be ruined by the fact that the man wasn't wearing anything under the pea coat so his bare chest peeked through the black folds. His hair looked like it hadn't been combed properly in days. Unruly blonde locks stuck up at random from a thick head of hair. Alfred's eyes came back up to the man's face, ignoring the blood now dripping down his left cheek in favor of studying his features. Pale skin contrasted with thick, nearly black eyebrows and under those eyebrows were intelligent, emerald green eyes. Alfred probably would've considered the man to be attractive if his face wasn't permanently chiseled with a deadpanned look.

"A stroll?" Alfred finally said, letting his shoulders drop a bit as he said the words. When the man didn't answer, Alfred nodded and took another deep breath, scrubbing his head with the pads of his fingers. "Okay, um… well, would you mind if I gave you a lift?"

It seemed like the proper thing to do, right? It was only natural to offer someone a ride after you hit them with your car. Right?

The man frowned at the teenager, looking him over once before turning around and walking down the road again. "Not interested, thank you."

Alfred walked faster and caught the man's wrist, trembling at the chill of his skin. He pulled the man back so he could look him in the face. "Look, I really don't feel comfortable leaving you out here in the middle of the night with no transportation. You're freezing! Just humor me and at least let me give you a ride."

The man sneered and opened his mouth to say something but Alfred cut him off.

"I'm not leaving you out here, so you can either get into my car or I'm walking with you."

The man closed his mouth and looked at Alfred, confusion and a bit of stubbornness etched into his facial expression. Finally the man sighed and nodded, pulling his wrist out of Alfred's grasp.

"Fine, if you insist."

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><p>Tell me what you think lovelies.<p>

Special thanks to Elle Eclaire for edits~


	2. Bandages

Chapter 1 ~ Bandages

Alfred tapped his middle and forefinger against the steering wheel to a beat in his head. The stereo had been turned off to allow for conversation, but the cabin of his dull red jeep was only filled with the sound of late autumn chill rushing past the soft black top. Alfred bit his lower lip and was tempted to switch the radio back on just so he could listen to a voice, but kept his hands where they were. He stole a glance at his acquired hitchhiker. The man had pushed the seat back as far as it would go and had concealed those intelligent green eyes behind dark golden lashes. His arms were crossed and relaxed over his abdomen, giving the blonde a very standoffish appearance. The stranger was being careful not to get any blood on Alfred's seats, but the car was kinda old and another stain certainly wasn't going to kill it. Alfred turned back to look at the road, navigating through the town's streets and intersections. He cleared his throat.

"Where to?" Alfred asked in a bouncy voice, trying to break the awkwardness with a positive attitude and a smile.

The man didn't even look at him, his voice lazily droning out the required response. "Where ever you want."

Alfred's lips pressed into a line and he almost stopped the car to let him out on the spot. He saw no point in keeping the man in his company if he didn't want his help or, apparently, need it. Al looked across to ask his if he should just pull over at the nearest gas station or something. He stopped, though, and really studied the man out of the corner of his eye. Alfred noticed how tired he looked; dark circles smudged under his eyes and his skin looking too pale to be healthy. He was probably really hungry too. How long had he been out in the cold anyway? When he had touched him his skin felt like ice. He must've been in this God-forsaken weather for hours.

No. Alfred resolved, he couldn't let someone in need get off the hook that easily. It just didn't sit right with him to ignore someone who so obviously required his help (no matter how stubborn said person was).

He tore his eyes away from the man for a moment, and remembered that he hadn't even asked for his name. He hadn't found the time for that particular courtesy in between hitting the poor guy with his car and kidnapping him. He blew out a lungful of air.

"What's your name?" Alfred asked, toning his voice down to a softer level, glancing back and forth from the road to the stranger. "I'm Alfred."

"Arthur," the man answered quietly.

Alfred smiled, happy for the response. Now they were getting somewhere. He slowed for a red light. "So, Arthur, wanna tell me where you're from? Your accent kinda sounds like you're from somewhere in the UK, right? I can't really tell cause you haven't said much. Do you live in this town? It's not exactly the biggest town and - well, sure, I haven't been here too long, but I'm pretty sure I've never seen you before." Alfred began thumping his fingers against the steering wheel, waiting for the red light to turn back to green. "I've never been to the UK personally. Actually, I haven't been much farther than Canada. My roommate said he wants to take us to France at some point. Oh, um, I have three roommates, but you don't have to worry. They're gone for the night." Wait. Why would it be a problem if his roommates were at the house anyway? It almost sounded like he was talking to a girl he was trying to take home. Alfred flushed, his finger thumping faster on the wheel. Was this light ever going to change? "Anyway, do you like French food? I figured you would be hungry and we have leftovers from last night that I was going to eat. My roommate, you know, the one that wants to take me and my other roommate to France, is also a kick-ass cook. He kinda went all out the other day and we have tons of food left." Finally the light changed and Alfred almost jerked the jeep from pressing the gas too quickly. Why was he so nervous? He was always really good at talking and meeting new people. Suddenly the white button-up he wore for work seemed unbelievably rigid and hot. "Do you want to stay for dinner? I don't mean that in a weird way, I just really feel bad for, you know, hitting you with my car." Wow, that sounded so bizarre to say out loud.

He waited for a moment, then waited a bit more as he turned down the familiar street that led to his house. The silence was getting uncomfortable again, and the college student glanced over to see if his passenger had fallen asleep on him.

Arthur was wide awake and looking at him with a bushy eyebrow raised. "My God, I thought you would never shut up."

Alfred blinked before laughing out loud, making Arthur jump in his seat. "Sorry man, I don't know what's wrong with me tonight. I guess it's kinda awkward talkin' to you cause I... well, you know."

Alfred pulled up into the empty garage and grabbed his small red duffle bag and heavy backpack from behind his seat. He yanked his keys out of the ignition as soon as the car was shifted into park. "Home sweet home."

He let himself out and Arthur did the same, albeit much more quietly, and followed the teenager up to the door.

Alfred cussed when he dropped his keys, snatching them up again and shoving the right one into the door to get it open. He was already shivering and couldn't wait to be inside the house and out of the cold.

"Dude, you never answered my question," Alfred started up again, pushing the door open and letting himself and his guest in before slamming it closed on the winter weather.

Arthur scoffed, striding into the house with an ease that took Alfred by surprise. A few snowflakes were quickly dusted off of his shoulder as he sat down on their dark blue sofa, crossing his legs as he leaned back. "Which one?"

Alfred stood there for a moment before remembering he was hungry. He routinely switched on lights as he walked past Arthur and into the kitchen. "All of them. You know, where are you from? Would you like to stay for dinner? Are you new around here?"

Alfred heard a sigh from the living room and was halfway to the fridge when he suddenly remembered that Arthur was bleeding and hurt. He made a quick one-eighty and walked past the other blond again to get to the hallway closet. There was a first aid kit in there somewhere right?

"I'm not sure why I have to answer any of those questions." Arthur's voice carried over to Alfred, a small growl in his tone. "I'm not going to be here that long anyway."

Alfred poked his head out from behind the closet door to look at Arthur. "Well, I never said you _had _to answer my questions. I'm just tryin' to make small talk, ya know?"

Arthur stared at him for a moment before his figure slackened a bit and another sigh was heaved from his thin chest. "Fine."

Alfred grinned and returned to his search.

"I was born in England. However, I've lived all over the UK at some point in my life."

"Any part of the UK you don't like?" Alfred asked, trying to keep the conversation going.

"Scotland," Arthur answered immediately. "Bloody bastards, the lot of them."

Alfred laughed at how ruffled the man sounded, finally locating the first aid kit right in front of his face on the third shelf. He tsked and grabbed it. "Why do you hate Scotland so much?"

"Because it's filled with bloody bastards! pay attention boy." The man snarled.

Alfred crinkled his nose as he shut the closet door with the toe of his shoe. "Boy? You don't look that much older then me." Arthur smirked, but it was gone so quickly that Alfred questioned if he had even seen it. "Wait, how old _are _you anyway? Nineteen? Twenty?"

"Twenty-four if it's any of your business," Arthur snapped, watching Alfred as he sat down on the hassock in front of the couch with the small medical box. Alfred blew out a mouthful of air, frowning before he looked up at Arthur seriously.

"I'm sorry, sir, I didn't realize how ancient you were. I'll be sure to treat you with the respect you deserve."

"That's right. You should respect your elders, boy," Arthur said, crossing his arms. Alfred snickered at Arthur, who was unable to help a small smirk of his own. He flicked the silver latch up on the white box and opened the kit, rifling through its contents to find a wet wipe. He pulled out a small packet from under some mismatched bandages and a pair of tweezers.

"Alrighty, now I'll just clean you up a bit first and-" Alfred looked at Arthur's face. Blood had dried across his forehead and down his right cheek. The dark color contrasted sharply against his pale skin. He looked from the dried blood to the small moist towelette in his hand then back to Arthur's face.

"Um, maybe we should wash your face off in the bathroom instead," Alfred offered, standing up and bringing the kit with him as he went. He didn't look to see if Arthur was following behind as he walked down the narrow hallway and ducked into the moderate sized bathroom. He flicked the toilet seat and lid down so Arthur could have a place to sit and twisted the cross-handled tap to get the hot water flowing. He left it running and placed the kit on the sink counter. He was about to pull out the few items he needed before he noticed that Arthur wasn't with him. He stuck his head and shoulders out the bathroom door to peek down the hallway to see if his English patient was still lounging on the couch. Arthur had paused in the short stretch of hallway, looking at one of the very few pictures the college boys had managed to nail to the wall. Alfred didn't need to come over to see which picture Arthur was looking at.

"That was taken about a year and a half ago in Canada."

"Twin?" Arthur asked, glancing at him briefly then back so he could compare the picture with Alfred himself.

The American nodded, "Yup, that's Matt."

Arthur tilted his head a fraction of an inch as he leaned in to analyze the picture. "Why are you all banged up?"

Alfred laughed and ducked back into the bathroom. "It's kind of a funny story."

"Oh?" Arthur inquired, following the American back into the washroom and perching himself onto the lid of the toilet when Alfred motioned for him to sit.

Alfred then began soaking a wash cloth in warm water before bringing it to the older man's face. Arthur refused to let the teenager fuss over him. He shooed his hand away and plucked the wash cloth from his grip so he could begin cleaning up his face himself. He dragged the rag over his forehead and began scrubbing the blood away with a bit more force than Alfred was personally going to use. Arthur pulled the cloth off and held it under the hot running water before returning to his face. "You were saying?"

"Oh. Right. So anyway, me and Matthew-"

"Matthew and I," Arthur corrected.

Alfred grinned. "So me and Matthew went skiing the day that picture was taken-" Alfred paused as his face turned sour for the first time that night. "And the reason I'm so 'banged up' is cause my brother's a liar."

"You don't say," Arthur sighed, obviously not as interested in the story as Alfred had hoped. "So how is it that your brother put you in the position of being physically injured by being deceitful?" Arthur stood up and nudged Alfred aside so he could look at his face in the mirror. He soaked the wash cloth once more to go over the places he missed.

"I'm getting there, just hold your horses." Alfred plopped down on the toilet lid in Arthur's place. "So before we get there Matt had been talking about us getting snowblades instead of snow skis. Do you know what snowblades are?"

Arthur shook his head as he placed the sangria red-stained face cloth on the lip of the sink. Alfred made a mental note to throw the tiny towel away before Francis saw that he had ruined one of his new cloths. Alfred inspected the gash when the Brit turned his head to examine it in the light. It traveled across the right side of the man's forehead, disappearing into messy blonde bangs and eventually into his hairline. It was nowhere near as bad as Alfred had originally thought it would be. He grabbed the kit off the counter to grab a tube of Neosporin and a large bandage. It seemed like a lot of blood for such a shallow cut, but Alfred had to remind himself that head injuries always bled more than anything else. Also, he thought darkly, Arthur was lucky to have come out of the whole ordeal with a mere scratch.

He handed the bandage and tube over when Arthur held out his hand for them, remembering where he left off while he watched Arthur.

"Well, Matthew had been using snowblades for years. He lived up in Canada with mom for a while so was in a place where he could practice a lot."

Arthur gave Alfred a confused sidelong look, so the teenager paused his story to explain. "Snowblades are kinda like skis only way shorter, like about maybe two to three feet." Arthur nodded.

"He told me that snowblades were easier than skis," Alfred continued while his guest returned to his task.

"Were they?" Arthur asked, halfway through smearing the ointment over his minor wound.

"Hell no!" Alfred all but shouted, getting into the story with exaggerated hand motions. "We get up to the top and Matt takes me down one of the hardest slopes on my first go!" Alfred demonstrated the massiveness of the rise by stretching his hand up as high as it would reach. "So I go down the hill, and this is a really hard hill so there are trees everywhere. I start building speed." Alfred's voice sank lower as he used his other hand to start "skiing" down his nearly vertical arm, weaving in and out dramatically between tiny invisible obstacles. "I start realizing that I can't really bank very well because the snowblades won't turn hard enough, As an added bonus, I can't stop."

Arthur paused for a moment so he could lean on the sink counter, regarding Alfred with a raised eyebrow. The younger man smiled gallantly at his audience before his face took on his a more serious expression to narrate the rest of his grand adventure. "Suddenly the speed was far too great for our hero; he began to wobble at the incredible speed." His hand began to mimic his ultimate doom. "With upcoming trees it was only a matter of time, then _WHAP!_" He clapped his hands together sharply and Arthur's second eyebrow raised as well. "I go right into one of the trees and the next thing I know I'm on my back and both of my snowblades are nowhere in sight."

Arthur turned to look at the mirror, placing the bandage over his cut. It wasn't broad enough to cover the entire gash but Arthur seemed satisfied as he began placing the tube of Neosporin back into the kit and threw away the paper remains of the band aid into the small waste basket.

"Did you ever get the hang of the snowblades?" He finally asked, snapping the lid of the first aid kit closed.

Alfred's eyes lost a bit of their excited twinkle behind their wire-rimmed glasses. "Not exactly."

Arthur looked at Alfred expectantly as he exited the washroom. Alfred left the first aid kit where it was and followed Arthur. "I exchanged the snowblades for skis when I eventually got to the bottom of the hill."

Arthur chuckled and Alfred smiled, glad that they had somehow broken through the awkward barrier.

Alfred passed Arthur and headed into the kitchen, making a beeline to the fridge. He rummaged though translucent Tupperware filled with dishes he had no clue how to pronounce. "Are you hungry?"

"Starving," Arthur said simply, seating himself at their kitchen table.

Alfred gave up trying to pick something and pulled out as many plastic containers he could balance before dumping them unceremoniously near the microwave.

They kept a light conversation going, in which time Alfred heated up two plates for their dinner as he told Arthur general facts about himself. Arthur was a good listener, Alfred found; he was scathing and really harsh between comments, but he sat and listened to Alfred regardless, never cutting him off or interrupting once.

"You don't look nineteen," Arthur said, placing his fork down when most of his plate was cleared. He had left the vegetables intact while all the meat had steadily disappeared. Alfred, on the other hand, was already finishing off his second helping, and ate, as Arthur described, like an "uncivilized Neanderthal." Alfred responded by eating faster.

"Older, right?" Alfred asked, a bit hopefully.

"Younger," Arthur amended, pushing his plate away. Alfred pouted and moved to stab one of Arthur's green beans.

"Everybody says that," Alfred grumbled, glaring down at his own plate. "Guess I have a baby face."

"If you lost some weight in your face you would look older," Arthur pronounced around the brim of his glass.

"I'm not fat," Alfred snapped, self-consciously putting his fork down as well. Sure he was a little chubbier around the middle after he had gotten into college, but that was only because he had worked out nearly every day in high school when he was on the varsity baseball team. Plus, between classes, papers, and working, there wasn't much time for him to do anything anymore.

Arthur placed his glass down, swallowing properly before answering. "I didn't say you were fat, Alfred. I'm just stating a fact. You would look older if your face lost a bit of its roundness. It would be the same for anyone." Arthur waved his hand before Alfred could say something else, dismissing the topic entirely. "Regardless, please continue with your family."

Alfred stood up, his voice perking up to a lighter tone as he talked about his brother and father, picking up the finished plates to place into the sink. He would get hell from Francis for not washing them, but he felt that getting scolded was completely worth being lazy for once.

"What about your mother?" Arthur asked as Alfred walked back to grab his drink.

The teenager's grip on his glass tightened a fraction, but he smiled all the same for Arthur. "She died when I was sixteen."

Arthur made eye contact with Alfred, the room falling silent for a beat. "I'm sorry to hear that."

Alfred shrugged, trying to play it off. He had gotten over it mostly, but it still was a sore spot when addressed directly. "She was in the hospital for a long time, at least she's not in pain anymore."

Alfred quickly changed the subject after that, going on and on about his brother, who was now living with his girlfriend and her brother. They sat and talked for a bit longer before Alfred glanced at the clock and made a face at how late it was. He still had to re-read his speech. He stood up, about to do just that when he looked over Arthur. He still appeared tired, at least to Alfred. He looked at the clock on the stove again, then at Arthur.

"Listen-" He started.

"I'm going to leave. Thank you for everything." Arthur stood up and started heading towards the door.

"Wha-? Wait, Arthur, that's wasn't what I was going to say." Alfred stood up and followed after Arthur. "Besides, it's freezing outside and it's almost three. Why don't you just crash on the couch?"

Arthur stopped short and Alfred nearly ran into him, stepping back and recovering as Arthur turned to look at him.

"Look, I have class in the afternoon so I'll just drive you where ever you need to go when we wake up." Alfred stood his ground when Arthur's unimpressed look came back with a vengeance.

"Okay, you seriously have to stop looking at me that. I'm offering my couch to you until morning. It's not like I'm asking you to sleep with me or something." Alfred flushed a bit at that last part, but continued. "You don't _have_ to stay here, I'm just saying that you have the option."

Arthur blinked, his face going from superior to unreadable during Alfred's proclamation. It was quiet. Alfred shifted from one foot to the other uncomfortably as deep green eyes studied him. He could hear the wind outside.

"Fine." Arthur finally said.

Alfred grinned and retreated back into the hallway to get a few blankets from the hall closet. "Hey, do you mind using the throw pillows or do you want to use a pillow from my bed?"

"This is fine," Arthur's voice stated, presumably referring to the pillows already on the couch. Alfred could hear something rustling and nearly dropped the blankets in his arms when he saw Arthur's bare back. Arthur was far skinnier than Alfred had originally assumed. With the pea coat off and hanging neatly on the arm of the couch, he could clearly see the slim frame it was hiding.

"Aren't you cold?" Alfred asked.

Arthur looked over his shoulder at Alfred as he toed out of his shoes. "I mean, you're not wearing anything but that," Alfred pointed at the pea coat.

"It's really warm." Arthur supplied simply.

Alfred nodded, walking over to the couch and dumping the thick blankets on the cushions.

Alfred waited for Arthur to settle in before telling him that he still had some work to do for his class tomorrow. Arthur berated him for slacking off and said, quite firmly, he didn't need to be baby sat for this long. 'Go do your bloody paper' was Arthur's goodnight and Alfred retreated into his bedroom, chuckling through his 'sweet dreams' before closing his door.

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><p>This is the end of Chapter One my lovelies, I'm gonna try and update this story once every two weeks or sooner so you know what to expect. Thank you so much for all the reviews (I was really surprised at how many people were interested in reading this…) But you all have convinced me otherwise and I'm making it a priority to write regularly. Please remember that I am in college and that if I miss my deadline of two weeks that I'm just being a college student and not to fret, I will have the next chapter up soon.<p>

Special thanks to Elle Eclaire for edits~


	3. Insidious Gratitude

I feel like this chapter took far longer to write than it should have…. Well, regardless, here it is, Chapter 2~ I hope you enjoy it lovelies, I'll try to pick up the pace with my writing (maybe even write longer chapters….) but if I write longer chapters that means it would take longer to update… hmmm… what do you guys think I should do?

Well, let's not sweat the small stuff for now….

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><p>Chapter 2~ Insidious Gratitude<p>

Alfred's eyes cracked open when he heard the noise. A low creak. His bed was pushed against the wall, and with his body facing away from the room he couldn't look around to see what had caused the noise without turning his head. He squeezed his eyes shut, his thoughts immediately going to the scariest situation. 'Calm down, it's not a monster…. It's certainly not that old lady from that movie, either. Calm down, man, just breathe.' It was stupid, he knew, but he couldn't help being scared after watching horror movies like Insidious all the time. Besides, that old lady was creepy as hell! On top of that, she won! She got to keep the dude's body in the end. Who's to say she wasn't behind him with that stolen body of hers, just waiting for Alfred to move so she could take him too! He strained his ears for another sound, hoping and praying that it was just his imagination so he could hurry up and fall back asleep.

The bed dipped slightly behind him and his whole body tensed in horror. Alfred's eyes snapped back open, his breath quickening. This was it. She was going to steal his soul! Wait, did she steal souls or bodies? Either way she was going to get him!

He waited.

And waited.

His shoulders were beginning to ache from keeping his muscles locked in place. He started to unwind a bit, thinking that maybe it really was just his imagination or something. Maybe if he just turned around to look there would be nothing there. Alfred mentally kicked himself for getting worked up over what was probably nothing. He slowly took a deep breath through his nose, counting backwards from three before turning to look around the room.

There was only one window in Alfred's room. It hardly let in any light through the thick, dark curtains since the teenager didn't like the sunlight waking him. Though, as dark as it was, he was able to make out the faint outlines of his room, like the tall skinny book case in the corner, filled with school books and comics and dusty knickknacks he really should consider throwing away. His plywood desk, fashioned to look like it was made out of a much more attractive looking wood, held his lap top. The glowing blinking light on its key board, winked at Alfred, reminding him that he had left it on by accident again. His large dresser was crooked and messy, most of its drawers open and its contents making an escape from their wooden prison. Those that had escaped were lying lifeless on the floor, having not survived the fall to his cluttered floor. His fan above squeaked every so often as it twirled round and round. A clink was heard when the plastic end of the short, metal drawstring kicked up and tapped the ivory dust-coated covering for the attached light bulb. All of these shapes and sounds were normal, save for one.

Sitting next to Alfred on his full-sized bed, someone was watching him.

Alfred almost screamed, but a chilled hand grabbed his open mouth to muffle the oncoming shriek. He fought against the clammy hand until a voice was added to the shadowed intruder.

"It's just me, you git! Stop screaming."

Alfred quieted instantly, yanking the man's hand off of his mouth. "Jesus, Arthur! Don't fucking do that to me!" He sat up, his heart hammering in his chest violently. "I almost had a stroke, man." His thoughts caught up with him, now turning to concern. "What's wrong? Do you feel bad? Did your head start hurting?" Alfred's hands groped in the darkness to turn on the rocket ship lamp on his nightstand, "I knew I should have taken you to the hospital."

Arthur's hand stopped Alfred's from reaching the lamp, keeping the two in the dark. The teenager was startled and looked at Arthur's silhouette.

"Alfred, I feel fine."

"Okay, um…" _Then why are you in my room? _"Do you need anything, then? Did Francis come home and try to grope you or something?" Alfred laughed at his own comment, his chuckle dying down when the cold hand on his wrist tightened. Was he cold? "Do you want another blanket?"

"I wanted to thank you for taking me in tonight," Arthur started, his voice dropping to almost a whisper. Alfred blinked in the darkness, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion until Arthur began leaning in. Alfred pulled back, frowning.

"Whoa, hold up." Alfred placed his free hand, the one not being held down by Arthur, on the man's chest. He was then reminded, with a start, that Arthur wasn't wearing his pea coat when his warm palm came in contact with a lightly-toned chest. He struggled for a moment to find the words to say without sounding rude. "I don't know how you thank people in England, but here in America a simple 'thank you' or treating the person to lunch is more than enough."

It was silent. Alfred worried for a moment that he had hurt the man's feelings. "Um, don't get me wrong! I'm flattered. But, I just don't really-"

What could he say? He couldn't say 'I don't swing that way' since it wasn't exactly true. 'I'm not interested'? Was that too harsh? He was about to say something a bit gentler when Arthur raised Alfred's wrist. Alfred flushed when he felt smooth lips on the back of his palm, pushing his awkward feelings away and letting Arthur kiss his hand. No harm there, right? Back of the hand was kinda neutral, right? Even Francis did this kinda stuff with people he wasn't trying to score in bed. It was probably a European thing. He felt his hand being turned over so Arthur's lips were pressing a feather-light kiss against the inside of his wrist. He waited for a moment, fidgeting, before he asked Arthur if he could have his hand back. Arthur paused and just as Alfred was about to smoothly tug his arm from the man's grip, he felt Arthur opened his mouth and dig his teeth into the meat of his hand.

Alfred yelped and yanked his hand back. He cupped the bite; a wet warmth was spreading there. "Dude! What the fuck is wrong with you?" Alfred rubbed his now bleeding hand and glared where he assumed Arthur's eyes were.

Arthur was very still, watching him. Alfred snapped at him to get out and went to get up to shove him out of his room and probably out of the house. Cold weather be damned; he had brought a psycho into their house!

He shoved his uninjured hand against Arthur, attempting to push him off his bed so he could briskly show the man to the door, when his hand fell short. Instead of the violent thrust he was hoping for his hand rested on the smooth skin of Arthur's chest. Gently, weakly.

"Wha-?" He managed to get out, his head feeling light and dizzy. He felt like he was drunk, not tired, just…so…

He nearly slumped forward, but caught himself before he flopped onto Arthur's shoulder. His body felt wrong. Like all of his strength was being sapped away. His hand where Arthur bit him began to tingle and he glared at Arthur's dark form through unfocused galactic blue eyes.

"What… What did you do to me?" He whispered brokenly, even his vocal cords becoming less responsive by the second. His body felt like it was being forced to completely relax. It didn't feel horrible, but his heartbeat was quick and he was genuinely unnerved for the second time that night.

"It's strange to have stumbled upon you like this," Arthur began, his silhouette standing up and walking to the blinded window so he could tear open the curtain to let the light from nearby streetlamps flood the room. Alfred struggled to stay upright in his bed as he looked at Arthur, shirtless and radiating a menacing presence that hadn't been there before. His eyes picked up the bit of yellow artificial light pouring into his room and lit up like glowing emeralds. The man before him smiled as he walked around the bed, almost like he was stalking Alfred, his eyes constantly looking Alfred over. Alfred noticed with a bit of horror that his own blood was smeared on the side of Arthur's full lips. He looked down at his hand. The flow has slowed but blood was still definitely welling up from the recent infliction. It was strange. He could hardly move but his body didn't feel numb or exhausted. In fact, he felt hyper sensitive to his surroundings. He could feel the chill seeping in from the window, the cooling sweat making his shirt stick to his back, a quill digging into his leg from his feather mattress. He felt it all through his increasingly wilting body. Arthur continued to speak, his tenor voice crystal clear in the near silent room.

"To think I would find someone like you driving home this late at night." Arthur smirked, his shoulders rising and falling in a silent laugh. "The thought alone simply baffles me. Your age astounds me as well." Arthur came back to the bed, gently pushing Alfred so he was on his back. The college student tried to fight but it was as useless as wet newspaper trying to hold up a heavy stone. Arthur laid him down easily. He raised Alfred's bleeding hand to his mouth, keeping Alfred's terrified and perplexed gaze as he whipped his tongue out to give the wound a long, slow lick. Alfred looked away in disgust as Arthur groaned against his hand, kissing his palm almost lovingly.

"To think I would find a virgin at your age is a treat indeed. Your blood tastes so pure and sweet, untainted by even drugs. I must say, you are certainly a rose among thorns in this day and age." Arthur's eyes raked Alfred, hunger and something else gleaming in their depths. "You being extremely attractive surprises me as well. It's usually pretty faces like you that taste the worst."

Alfred's face heated up, his eyes snapping back to look at Arthur. _How…? _How did he know that Alfred was a virgin? Arthur noticed the bemused look and answered his obvious question.

"I can taste it in your blood," Arthur purred, his eyes flashing in the glow of the room. "I've been so long without a meal that I thought I would go insane with hunger." Arthur smiled, but it wasn't kind. The curve of his lips were sharp and laced with a wickedness that made Alfred think of the monsters from his horror movies. "I would've waited longer had I known you were going to be the prize I bagged tonight." He said this like he was complimenting Alfred. However, the poor teenager was just confused and feeling more and more helpless by the second. This guy was a freak. He was going to get raped by some random guy who had a thing for blood play.

Arthur crawled onto the bed and straddled Alfred's inert body. The boy gulped. His boxers and Dr Pepper t-shirt seemed like a pathetic shield against Arthur. The man ran slender fingers down his chest, starting at the junction of his neck and down his pecs, abdomen, and navel. His super sensitive skin shivered at the slight touch and a breathless sigh pushed from his mouth as he trembled between Arthur's thighs. Arthur grabbed the hem of Alfred's shirt and pulled up, Alfred's eyelids clamping shut as he felt painfully gentle digits trail up his bare chest under his shirt.

"My goodness, your heart is beating fast" Arthur's voice teased, his chilled hand resting against the left side of Alfred's chest.

"And your face is adorably flushed. You really are a virgin, aren't you?" Alfred almost snapped back at the man above him, but his tongue was a useless hunk of meat inside an equally unhelpful mouth. Arthur smirked and drew his hand out to cup Alfred's cheek before leaning down. Alfred looked away, tried to move his head, but is was impossible. He couldn't move.

Arthur's lips closed over Alfred's and a small squeak sounded in the blonde's throat. He had been kissed before. hell he had done more than just kissing. Just because he hadn't had sex yet didn't mean he had never fooled around before. It wasn't his first kiss with a man, either. He could admit to making out with Francis on very drunk nights and a small kiss or two with other boys at bars and parties he was dragged along to with his roommates. But this, this kiss, with his overly sensitive body, made oxygen scarce in his lungs. Thoughts of what was going on fled from his head. Arthur had gently kissed him at first, the first touch making his nerves nearly explode with the sensation. It was like the feeling had been magnified tenfold and Arthur was showing obvious signs that he had a vast knowledge of this particular deed. He licked Alfred's bottom lip excruciatingly slow and another sound, one that Alfred had no idea how to describe, escaped. Arthur chuckled deep in his chest, watching Alfred with amusement. He dipped his head and fully kissed him again, rougher this time, his tongue pushing past Alfred's relaxed lips and rubbing against the unresponsive muscle. Alfred squeezed his eyes shut, trying and failing to pull his head away efficiently. Even with his limited movement, Arthur held his head steady by snaking his fingers into Alfred's golden hair and griping the locks almost to the point of pain. Arthur tasted strange as well. There was a faint lingering metallic taste from when he had lapped at his bleeding hand, but under the initial taste was another, a bitter tang. His taste buds, unfamiliar with the flavor and now reacting just as strongly as the rest of his body to whatever drug Arthur had injected into him, registered the tart hint as pleasure and his tongue twitched against Arthur's demanding one. It craved, without its owner's permission, more of Arthur's strange but exciting taste.

Arthur's lips twisted into a smile, pulling Alfred's tongue into his mouth and sucking on it. Alfred moaned, his breath coming in a sharp gasp at his own reaction. His eyes snapped open at how chilled the inside of Arthur's mouth was. Was it even humanly possible to feel like this? Alfred felt something sharp against the tender pink skin and his muscles actually obeyed to his command to pull back. He tugged his tongue out of Arthur's mouth and winced when he felt the skin break against the foreign object.

Arthur looked at Alfred, frowning. "Already wearing off? Well, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised; the venom doesn't last that long and I usually don't play with my food." Arthur gave Alfred a full smile, his teeth showing. Alfred looked at the man's teeth and found that he had cut his tongue on one of the two pointed incisors that were drawn out longer than the other teeth. The realization that Alfred had been pushing away this entire time came back and punched him in the gut. Arthur was a…

He couldn't help it. He was so scared and even with his strength coming back at a snail's pace, he was nowhere near being able to fight off Arthur yet. Alfred started giggling weakly.

Arthur frowned and pulled back to examine the younger man. "Why on earth are you laughing?"

"So...st-stupid." Alfred managed with his dead tongue, whispering the words through his small hysteric reaction.

It _was _so stupid. He now knew for a fact that he was dreaming and felt silly for being terrified in the first place. He closed his eyes and knew that when he opened them he would be waking up in the morning, taking a very human Arthur to where ever he needed to go, and heading off to class to do his presentation for Speech class.

He opened his eyes and his room was dark apart from the streetlight coming in through the window. He was laying in bed, and Arthur was still straddling him, watching the teenager with a befuddled and slightly annoyed expression.

Alfred blinked and closed his eyes again, tighter this time. No big deal, it would naturally take a few tries to get out of a dream. He opened them again to Arthur. He closed them again.

"Oh for fuck's sake!" Arthur snarled, grabbing Alfred's shirt and yanking it up, forcing Alfred out of his sleeping top.

Alfred's eyes snapped open and with the little strength he had regained tried twisting away from Arthur. Arthur was stronger, and he shoved Alfred back again, holding his hands above his head almost effortlessly.

"Oh no you don't, love." Arthur smiled, his wicked sharp teeth the only thing Alfred could see. "The venom hasn't worn off completely; you're still mine." Arthur's grin only deepened, his eyes narrowing into near slits. He looked like a maniac. Alfred contemplated screaming for help. A small voice in the back of his head told him it was pointless to try.

"I'm truly blessed to have you tonight," Arthur whispered, smiling lips meeting Alfred's once more. Though not in a kiss. Their lips simply brushed as Arthur spoke the next words against Alfred's mouth. "I'd thank God, but I'm not the type of chap he's be willing to listen to."

The older blonde trailed his lips down Alfred's chin and jaw line, working his way down. Alfred squirmed, an embarrassing whimper tightening his vocal cords as air passed through them. With Alfred's shirt gone Arthur trailed his free hand down Alfred's chest, a pinky grazing a dusky nipple in its wake. Alfred's flush returned and only richened in color when a straight nose skimmed his jugular, Arthur's moistened lips following behind the nose. Arthur inhaled deeply, savoring the meal to come as his tongue wet the skin where Alfred's life line beat erratically. The pulsing vein wasn't shy to show Arthur exactly where to draw from. Traitor.

Alfred felt like this was it. He was going to die. He would never see his brother or father again. What would they say? Who would find him? He vividly pictured Francis or Gilbert coming in and finding his drained body, eyes glassy and unseeing, lips blue, skin chalky white. He felt a hot tear trail down and travel down at an angle to mingle with his attached earlobe.

"Stop…" he choked, too afraid of premature death to begin to care about the saline droplets now freefalling from his sky blue eyes. "P-Please…"

Arthur's green irises looked up at Alfred, watching him before straining his neck to place his lips on the side of his eye, the tip of his tongue following the tear trail until he reached his lobe, licking the shell and whispering into Alfred's ear.

"Don't worry. It will be over soon, love. Relax… Close your pretty eyes." Somehow the British accent only made the words that much more frightening. Alfred wanted to try to break free one last time, putting all off his effort into his escape. Maybe if he could just get one arm free he could-

Arthur's teeth sank deep into Alfred's pulse line, piercing skin and muscle to get to his goal. Alfred's eyes widened, shock hitting him before sharp pain followed after. He screamed. At first the cry was loud, louder than what Alfred was expecting from his weakened voice. It was soon quieted into a strangled gurgle when Arthur gave a very inhuman growl and pushed his teeth in harder. Air was getting hard to come by, his throat muscles spasmed at the penetration. He felt blood trickling down his neck. Arthur yanked his teeth out and began to eagerly lap at the blood, groaning at the sweet taste.

Alfred's neck began to tingle in the same manner his hand had experienced earlier. His strength, what little he had gained of it, quickly fled him for a second time. Limbs twitched pitifully until his muscles fully surrendered to the venom, relaxing for Arthur to enjoy his meal in peace. His body, now even more sensitive from the newest bite, spared not the slightest sensation for Alfred. Arthur's lips wrapped around the fresh puncture wound and drank deeply of the free-flowing blood, warming his cold mouth with the boy's precious life liquid. It felt strange and Alfred's mouth still gave soft, broken 'ah's and groans. Arthur wasn't as quiet though, he moaned into Alfred's neck, unashamed. Alfred's blood was unbelievably delicious, coating his lapping tongue in the untainted and robust flavor that he had gone far too long without. He wanted more. No, needed more. He jerked back, grabbing Alfred by the shoulders and pulling the boneless teenager into a sitting position before maneuvering his body sideways and slamming his back into the nearest wall.

Alfred made a noise of discomfort when his skull cracked against the wall. Arthur paid no heed, straddling the boy's lap and latching onto the bite. Instead of just letting the blood flow into his mouth, he sucked with all his might, forcing the blood from his veins to quench his unbridled thirst. A trembling whimper sounded from Alfred, his teeth clenching feebly in agony at having his veins expand nearly to the point of bursting. He moaned, but slowly the pain became less and less unbearable. It was getting harder to see, the dark room closing in on him from the corners of his vision. Alfred couldn't move at all, and found it more and more difficult to find the will to do anything besides lay there. He was getting tired, his eyelids felt heavier. He felt lighter and the pain was now a gentle throb, hardly noticeable. The only part of Arthur he could see was his choppy blonde hair and his naked back. The weight of the man - the monster - was getting heavier, but he didn't mind any more. He didn't care; he just wanted to close his eyes.

Alfred gave in, hiding marine orbs behind dark eyelashes, the sound of his blood rushing out of his body lulling him into what the young man believed was his final sleep.

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><p>That's the end of Chapter 2 ~<p>

Until later my lovelies!

~Ying

Special thanks to Elle Eclaire for edits~


	4. Doctor

Guess what? ….. No don't worry, I'll give you time to guess…. Give up? I got a pet fish for my dorm! Now, I realize that this may not be very exciting for most. I, on the other hand, am ecstatic. My roommate and I named the fish (after much consideration and many arguments) Gannicus. For those of you who haven't seen the second season of Spartacus, "Gannicus" is a bad ass gladiator, and seemed like such a perfect title for a helpless fish that now relies solely on my remembrance to feed it daily.

….

Anyway, Gannicus is a Crown-tailed Beta (just in case you were curious…) My mom didn't like him when we first saw him (She said he looked scary… =_=) so naturally I couldn't leave Wal-Mart without him.

I'm sorry for going on… I'll get started on the chapter…

Enjoy lovelies~

PS: The name "Satine" is pronounced {Sa-teen}. Also, she was named after the "Sparkling Diamond" from the movie Moulin Rouge.

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><p>Chapter 3: Doctor<p>

Francis rolled his stiff shoulders as he opened the front door, closing it properly so he could begin to shuck out of his coat, dress shoes, and scarf. His cell phone vibrated in his slack's back pocket. He decided to ignore it. Whoever it was could wait until after he had taken a shower and gotten some fresh clothes on. He hung his keys next to the door, noticing Alfred's keys were hanging on the adjacent hook. The hook for Gilbert was forever alone, seeing as the albino thought it was easier to lose his keys than to hang them up. Francis sighed as he headed to his room, longing for a hot shower. He decided to skip class today. Lord knows - Francis smirked - he could afford to miss one day when he was at the top of his class.

He walked past Alfred and Gilbert's closed doors to reach his own at the end of the hallway, and pushed the wooden door open. His room was carpeted, like every bedroom in the house, but, unlike his other roommates, Francis took particular care in keeping his room clean, vacuumed, and organized. His laptop sat on a black and silver metal desk that matched the rest of his room; his queen-sized bed frame and dresser were also fashioned in the same way.

He heard Alfred's alarm going off in the next room over, the loud beeping muted by the thick walls of the house. A soft mewl brought his attention to the bed. Satine, Francis's sleek black cat, sat pristinely on his gray sheets. Her long fluffy tail curled around her front paws. Big, bright orange eyes watched him with an hint of annoyance. She had been waiting for him.

Francis cooed to her in French, making his way to the bed to scratch her head. "Good morning, my dear. I'm sorry I left you alone last night." Satine accepted his touch, purring into his palm and forgiving him for his slight offense. Francis smiled warmly before he began to unbutton his red dress shirt, his fingers flicking off the clasps at his cuffs as well so he could pull the shirt off without straining the fabric around his wrists. He tossed the shirt into the hamper in his closet, making a mental note that he needed to do laundry later. "I met the most gorgeous creature last light, my dear," he spook to Satine once again in his French tongue. "He was a beautiful boy with fiery red hair." He began to grab a towel, heading to his bathroom, his bedroom being the only one with an attached washroom. "He was dressed like a hooligan, mind you, but it's nice to have something wild every once in a while, no?" Satine meowed, louder this time. Francis stopped when he heard her and was suddenly aware that Alfred's alarm clock was still beeping next door. How odd. Alfred was usually so good at getting up in the morning. Francis frowned and laid the towel on his bed before exiting his room, sock clad feet bringing him to Alfred's closed door. He raised a hand and knocked a few times. "Alfred?" He waited for a moment, but the only sound that greeted him was the incessant high pitched beeping. He sighed; the boy had probably worked himself into exhaustion, hunched over his desk and drooling on his laptop. He grinned at the mental image while grasping the door handle and turning it, pushing his way into the room. It was dark like always, the sun blotted out by those horrible black curtains. He swore Alfred thought he was a vampire sometimes.

He flicked on the light switch next to the door and the bulb on the twirling ceiling fan lit up the dark space with a soft white. Alfred's room was messy as always, clothes strewn across the floor, collectively condensed around his gaming chair - his "crap catcher" Francis called it - and his wooden dresser. Open text books and scribbled-on loose leaf papers took up the space on his desk that his laptop didn't. His waste basket was overflowing. Francis tried to ignore the mess, stepping over the battlefield so he could make his way to Alfred's bed. The teenager was tucked into his blankets, curled up on his side and facing the wall as per usual in his sleeping habits. Francis rolled his eyes and pressed the "off" button on the alarm clock to stop the noise. He braced his knee against the side of the bed so he could lean over Alfred, one hand on either side of his body. He leaned down to whisper into the boy's visible ear, a perverse smile on his face.

"If you were going to spend all day in zat bed, you should 'ave told me. I would 'ave kept you company."

He was sure Alfred would spring up at that. For as long as Francis had known him, he had always been an over the top prude when alcohol wasn't involved. It was a quality that Francis exploited as often as he could get away with. The last time Alfred had to be woken up by the Frenchman, a simple error in forgetting to set his alarm the previous night, Francis had nearly had his lights knocked out by his blushing and irritated roommate. It was all in good fun though; Alfred believed Francis was simply kidding.

Alfred didn't move, he was still. Francis frowned and jiggled Alfred's shoulder. He looked closer and noticed that Alfred was quite pale. He placed a hand on Alfred's forehead and found that he was unnaturally chilled. Closer still, Francis saw that Alfred was trembling slightly, his quiet breaths shaking as he pulled them in and pushed them out.

"Alfred?" Francis asked again, pulling him so he was on his back. "Alfred!" He said firmly, shaking him.

The boy moaned, his eyebrows furrowing before he opened dulled blue eyes. He looked at Francis for a moment before closing his eyes again, curling into his blanket.

"Non, non, non. Do not close your eyes. Wake up. Come on, there we go." Francis bullied Alfred into a sitting position, but Alfred's fingers clung to his blanket not wanting to give up the warmth it provided for him.

Suddenly Alfred's eyes snapped open, alert and fearful. "Where's Arthur?" He asked frantically, his movements jerky but sluggish as he tried to scramble out of bed.

"Arthur?" Francis repeated, getting out of Alfred's way only to cringe and help Alfred back onto his feet when he fell over on weakened legs.

"Yeah!" He said, scrambling and probably unaware that he had even hit the floor in the first place. He stopped and looked at his shirt, plucking at it with a confused look. "When did…?" His hands were suddenly pulled up in front of his face, inspecting the skin as he flipped them from the front to the back and then to the front again, mouth gaping open. "Wait…why am I okay?" His palm slapped onto his neck, his fingers prodding the skin there. "Didn't he-?"

Francis was getting concerned now; he stepped in front of Alfred, hoping to tackle this new development one problem at a time. "Calm down, Alfred. What's wrong? Did you 'ave a nightmare?"

Alfred looked at Francis, eyebrows furrowed. "Didn't you see him? He was sleeping on the couch!"

Alfred hurried around Francis, slamming into his door frame in his clumsy haste. Francis followed after, thinking back and trying to remember if he had seen anything out of place when he had walked in. Had Alfred had a guest last night?

Alfred was frantic when he entered the living room, looking this way that that. When Alfred didn't see what he had been expecting to see, he wobbled into the kitchen only to see his unwashed dishes in the stainless steel basin. He frowned at the single dirty plate and fork, turning on Francis when the man came in as well. "Did you do any dishes when you came back?"

Francis would've been a bit irritated that Alfred had left his dirty dishes in the sink if he hadn't been so worried about Alfred's strange behavior. "I just got 'ome, why would I do za dishes - which you dirtied, might I add - as soon as I step 'srough za door?"

Alfred gave Francis a helpless look, obviously distressed. "Wh-" Alfred reeled, his fall stopped by the kitchen counter. Alfred raised his hands up to his face, scrubbing them and taking a deep breath, trying to calm his hysterics. Francis waited. The chilly wind kicked up fresh snow so it tapped on the kitchen window. The room was golden with morning light, and had Alfred not been flipping the fuck out, Francis would've deemed this a beautiful, perfect day. Alfred looked up when he had managed to get a bit of sense about him. He kept his unfocused gaze on the floor, his fingers still resting on his face.

"Tell me exactly what you did when you got home," Alfred said, his voice back to his regular tenor, rather than that distressed higher-pitched voice.

Francis thought back as he began to list his previous activities. "Well, I came home, took off my jacket, walked to my room, pet Satine, and started getting ready for a shower…" He kept his dark sapphire blue eyes on Alfred, gauging his reaction carefully. "Zen I heard your alarm going off, and you didn't seem to be getting up, so I went to wake you up."

Alfred nodded, lowering his hands and swallowing, his Adam's apple bobbing nervously. Suddenly Alfred was walking again, not as frantic but equally as quick. He walked through the living room, into the hallway, and pushed open the bathroom door. He flicked on the light and looked blankly at the empty sink counter. Alfred reeled again, staggered, then surged forward and promptly fell to his knees to throw up into the toilet. Francis, close behind and watching this entire progress, sighed and reached up to yank one of the small towels from the silver rail hanging on the wall closest to the door. He twisted the hot water tab and soaked a chunk of the cloth when the flow began to steam, listening to another wave of sickness overcome Alfred. He wrung the excess water out and sat on the edge of the tub, rubbing Alfred's back soothingly. Alfred's muscles trembled under his thin red t-shirt, and Francis moved his hand up so he could feel the back of the boy's neck - still cold. He placed the warm wet towel against Alfred's neck and the boy sighed, relaxing against the touch. Alfred kept his head bent for a while longer, waiting to see if he was going to puke again before looking up at Francis, a small pitiful smile on his face. "Sorry."

The older man sighed, smirking playfully at his roommate. "Are you sure you weren't za one drinking last night?"

Alfred laughed weakly, his head falling forward slightly, "it would explain why I feel like shit and why…" He paused for a moment, a hand coming up to gently scratch at the side of his neck. "I had such a weird dream." Alfred looked up again, his eyes looking hazy. "I don't remember drinking…"

Francis nodded and rubbed his back again, kneading his thumb pad into the skin that connected Alfred's neck and shoulders. Alfred snatched some toilet paper to wipe his mouth with and pulled the trip lever on the side of the toilet tank. He stood up, taking the partially wet towel with him and shuffling to the sink to swish his mouth out with water.

"Are you going to go back to sleep?" Francis hoped Alfred would say 'yes' so he wouldn't have to force him.

"I have a presentation today," Alfred answered blearily.

Fuck.

"Are you going to be able to perform properly? I'm sure if you e-mailed-"

"My Speech professor is a bitch. She wouldn't give a damn if I was in a coma. It's due today."

Something about Alfred's tone made Francis hold his tongue. There was no point in arguing. Alfred worked so hard to keep his outstanding GPA; the older man knew trying to sway Alfred into jeopardizing his academics would be a waste of time. He stood.

"Take a shower and warm yourself up, mon chère. I'll have some water and aspirin waiting for you when you get out."

Alfred grinned weakly. "You're the best, man."

"Oui, oui, I know. Now hurry up." He paused at the door as Alfred struggled to pull his shirt over his head, lingering for a moment. "I'm taking you to za clinic after your class."

Alfred nearly protested but Francis held up his hand to stop the freshman. "Don't argue with me, Alfred. You really don't look well. I'm taking you to see za docteur."

And that was that. Alfred pouted a bit but nodded as Francis left so he could take his shower.

.

Francis had insisted driving Alfred to his school. After watching him stumble over a chair that was clearly in his way and dump nearly half of his lucky charms on the table rather than in his bowl, it was safe to say that Alfred's hand-eye coordination was going to be problematic behind the wheel. It took every bit of Francis's self-control not to strap Alfred to his bed and make him sleep, but he knew Alfred would not go without a fight. Fighting back and wasting precious energy was the last thing Alfred needed to do right now. The aspirin had done nothing for Alfred's headache; his head pounded and felt fuzzy, his body felt drained, and he was having trouble just keeping his eyes open. Each time he blinked it was a battle to get them back open. He stole one of Gilbert's Monster energy drinks and downed half of it before they made it out of their street. He almost threw up at the overly tangy flavor but he managed to forced it down.

Francis was mostly quiet for the trip to their college, letting Alfred go through his presentation notes in peace and gather his thoughts. He had double checked that he had everything and then checked again right before he got out of the car. Francis grabbed Alfred's wrist as he began to get out, handing him a deep green scarf and giving the blond a hard look.

"I'm going to be out 'ere waiting for you. Tell zhat woman zhat you'll only stay 'ong enough to do your presentation."

Alfred worked his way out of Francis's grip, rolling his eyes and drinking the last swallow of Monster. "Okay, mom."

He walked away from the silver car, tossing the can in a garbage bin and wrapping Francis's scarf around his neck to keep his heat in. It was cold, but he felt even more chilled now that he was ill. He shivered and cussed when an incoming winter wind blasted him, shuffling into his building as quickly as possible.

He was a few minutes early when he finally managed to make it into his classroom. Mrs. Banes hadn't even shown up yet. He took his normal seat next to Feliks, the freshman sporting a fashionable pink sweater and matching pink skinny jeans; a half jacket hung over the back of his chair. Where Feliks managed to get these crazy outfits was beyond Alfred. He ignored that as he sat down, seeing that Feliks was scrolling through one of those online shopping sites, tapping a manicured pink nail on the table. Feliks looked up as soon as Alfred sat down, glossy lips pulling into an excited smile before dropping into a frown.

"Oh my God, Alfie! You look like shit."

Alfred grumbled something about 'stating the obvious' when Feliks leaned in to inspect Alfred closer. Alfred backed up, forcing a smile on his face. "I'm fine, I just feel a little bit off today."

"A little?" Feliks raised a blond eyebrow. It was obvious that Feliks had more to say on the matter, but just as he opened his glossy lips Mrs. Banes swept into the room, snapping at her students to be silent. Feliks turned forward, pouting, but pulled his notebook forward to write in it with a flourish of his purple gel pen. He pushed the notebook towards Alfred so he could see.

'What's wrong with you?'

Alfred read the message before grabbing the purple pen and scribbling down an answer.

'Woke up this morning feeling like shit. Don't know what's wrong with me. Roommate's taking me to clinic after this.'

Feliks read this and grabbed the pen back.

'Did anything weird happen the night before? Sore throat? Drinking?'

Alfred softly clicked his tongue, recalling his dream last night and wrote as much.

'I dreamed a vampire attacked me last night. Does that count?'

Feliks stifled a small giggle behind his hand, looking up nervously to see if Mrs. Banes was looking their way. She was busy explaining how the students were to present. He smirked as he quickly wrote a response.

'That kinda sounds hot. Was the vampire totally sexy?'

Alfred pushed the notebook away, ignoring Feliks and his small "humph!" to look forward. He yawned and rubbed his temples, wanting nothing more than to just go back to sleep. The Monster was doing nothing for him; in fact, it felt like it had only made his headache worse.

Presentations went by at an excruciatingly slow pace even though they were only about five minutes long each. They were going in alphabetical order so Alfred was closer to the front of the list, but sitting in his chair for forty minutes had nearly put him to sleep countless times.

"Jones," Mrs. Banes called off her list when Anthony Harris had finished his presentation. He nodded and stood up slowly, gathering his materials before making his way down the aisle. He felt lightheaded, but knowing that the sooner he did this presentation the sooner he could go home and go to bed made his feet keep going. He had felt sluggish all morning, but now it was almost painful to walk.

"Today, Mr. Jones," Mrs. Banes said, not even sparing Alfred a glance as she scribbled on her clipboard. Alfred made it to the front of the class and began his presentation. He looked up and saw Feliks giving him a thumbs up and smiling widely. He smirked, finding a bit more of the strength he needed, and launched into his presentation.

.

Thankfully he made it through without too much trouble. Mrs. Banes kept telling him to speak louder, but he was done at last. With that being said, Alfred returned to his seat and gathered his things as silently as possible so as not to draw unwanted attention from the old teacher. Knowing her, if he made too much of a racket she would force him to sit down or dock points from his grade. He waved at Feliks, who mouthed "hope you feel better" as Alfred left. He opened and closed the heavy door as quietly as he could before leaning against the concrete wall in the hallway, sighing. He just had to make it out to Francis's car and he was set. He fumbled in his pocket for his cell phone and mashed the number seven and send before holding the phone up to his ear. It rang three times before the man answered.

"I'm in za front where I dropped you off. 'ow did your presentation go?" Francis said, the sound of shuffling papers in the background of his words.

"Good enough I guess." Alfred answered, rubbing under his glasses for what felt like the hundredth time. He wished this headache would go away already. "Do we have to go to the clinic, Francis? I just want to sleep."

The man on the phone tsked. "Alfred, do not be a child. What if you are really sick? Not to be dramatic, but what if you get worse if you don't go to ze docteur?"

Alfred weighed the options of dying in his sleep or going to the doctor. Honestly, dying in his sleep didn't sound quite that bad at the moment.

"Alfred, it will not take zat long. Besides, I do not want to be 'aking care of you for a week just because you were too stubborn to-."

"Okay, okay. Fine, you win," Alfred snapped, hanging up the phone and stuffing it back into his jacket. He knew he was being stupid but he felt awful and sluggish and his head pounded against his skull. On top of that he felt bad for snapping at Francis when he knew that the man was just trying to help him out. He stepped outside and curled into his jacket against the cold, gritting his teeth. Why did it have to be so cold? He saw Francis's car idling right where he had said it would be and made a beeline for it. He got into his seat at the passenger side and strapped in his seatbelt, Francis glancing at him before shifting the car into drive. It was quiet again until a bit further down the road Alfred mumbled through Francis's scarf still tied around his neck. "Sorry for being a dick."

The senior laughed, "It's okay, I know you don't feel well. You 'ave been stressed out all morning. I understand."

Alfred sighed, but Francis kept the conversation going. "So nothing weird 'appened last night? Who is zis 'Arthur' you were talking about?"

Alfred chuckled and stretched out, resting his forehead on the window, but pulled back when the chilly glass touched his skin. He tried to find a comfortable place to lay his head back, settling for just keeping it against the headrest. "I had this dream last night. It seemed so real that when you woke me up…" he trailed off, remembering Arthur. His seemingly glowing emerald green eyes, sharp fangs, dirty blonde hair, perfect ivory skin, and well-toned chest. He stopped himself from thinking any further. "I don't know. I thought it had really happened."

Francis nodded, but kept his eyes on the road. "What 'appened in your dream?"

Alfred went on to explain what had supposedly occurred last night. He explained the car accident where he had hit Arthur and then taken him home that night. How they had eaten dinner and talked, and how when he went to bed he told Arthur that he would wake up early and take him where he needed to go before going to class. He purposely left out the part where Arthur had snuck into his room and drank his blood. It felt weird telling Francis that. Well, perhaps not weird, but it didn't feel like he exactly needed to tell him that. It was just a dream, but he didn't need Francis to think he was crazy. No need to add going to a psychiatrist as well as seeing a doctor.

Francis had listened to everything without interrupting, his eyes still leveled on the road and his face was unreadable. "I see. Nothing else 'appened?"

Alfred shrugged. "Nope, that's everything." _That you need to know_.

Francis looked at Alfred then back at the road. It was obvious that the older man knew that Alfred was lying to him, but it was no use pressing the matter over something as silly as a dream.

Alfred yawned again. "So how was the party?"

Francis livened up in a flash, going into grand detail about his most recent lover and how his night ended, once again, in "ze arms of an exquisite creature of ze night." Alfred smirked and closed his eyes as he listened to Francis go on about the party and his night, his thoughts drifting back and forth between Francis's night and his own.

.

The clinic hardly had any people in the waiting area, which was good news for Alfred as he was seen rather quickly upon his arrival. He was ushered into the back by a small mousy nurse after filling out the necessary paper work, leaving Francis behind in the waiting room. He looked back and saw his roommate heading over to a pretty brunette receptionist and rolled his eyes.

"If you could please take a seat, the doctor will see you shortly." The mousy nurse recited her given line and ducked out of the room quickly. Alfred turned and blinked; he had hoped he could ask her some more questions, but he supposed he could wait for the doctor. He looked at the metal and gray cushioned table and jumped up so he was sitting on the paper lining. Well, tried to. He hopped up a few times, but the paper kept sliding everywhere and the table groaned under his weight and creaked noisily when he struggled to balance. "Shh!" He told the table, a bit flustered and embarrassed at himself for not even being able to get up on a stupid examination table. His weakened legs certainly weren't helping him at all. He glared at the table and then looked at the medium sized plastic chair in the corner and plopped down into it. He kept glaring at the table. Why on earth was it so high up anyway. Alfred wasn't exactly short either. It had to be because of his weak muscles and the fact that the paper made everything too smooth to grip onto. The paper was now crinkled and falling to the floor. Should he fix that before the doctor came in?

He didn't get the chance to when the door opened and a blond-headed male poked his head in the door. "Good afternoon," he sang cheerfully. Alfred had expected the man to come in, but he only let his head in. "I'm sorry for the wait; I'll be with you in a moment. A mean ol' puppy is giving me a hard time right now." With that the bubbly blond, supposedly medically licensed, male snapped the door closed.

Alfred was left to sit there and listen to some muffled commotion down the hallway of people obviously getting into an argument. Puppy? This was a clinic for people, right? He really hoped Francis wasn't trying to be funny by taking him to a veterinary clinic. He sat back and took his glasses off so he could clean them with the edge of his shirt, amusing himself by trying to listen to the argument raging outside. It was no use though; either the walls were too thick or they were too far away for Alfred to hear them clearly. A few moments later the blond doctor popped back in, closing the door and looking a little ruffled. His smile was still in place though so the scrimmage couldn't have been that awful, right?

"Hello again," the doctor said, bouncing forward and catching Alfred's automatically raised hand in a polite handshake. "I'm Dr. You-Ou. I'll be examining you."

Alfred nodded and smiled back, the man's happy demeanor almost contagious. "Alfred," he responded.

"So Alfred," Dr You-Ou began, plopping down into a free rolling stool and facing the college student, clipboard in hand, "what seems to be the problem?"

"Um, well I woke up this morning - or actually, I couldn't wake up this morning, my roommate had to wake me up."

Doctor You-Ou nodded, watching Alfred carefully. "Do you live in the dorms?"

"No, we rent out a house."

"I see." The blond doctor motioned for him to continue.

"Well, I've had this headache ever since I woke up this morning, I feel cold and weak, and I threw up a little after getting up." He paused for a moment. "I feel dizzy and lightheaded too. All I want to do is go back to sleep."

Dr. You-Ou nodded and stood up, opening up a metal drawer installed into the side of the examining table, pulling out a few typical medical instruments used in daily checkups.

"Are all these symptoms new, or have you been feeling them for a while?"

Alfred shook his head. "Just this morning."

The doctor smiled and told Alfred to open his mouth so he could slip a thermometer under his tongue. "Now don't open your mouth but nod your head yes or shake your head no to my next questions. Okay?"

Nod.

"Okey dokey, have you been drinking any alcohol in the past week? I know you're underage but don't worry, I won't tell anyone."

Alfred shook his head no. It was true too. He hadn't gone to any parties in the past week. Though, the week before was a different story.

"Do you drink at all?"

Alfred nodded yes, the thermometer bobbing with his head.

Dr. You-Ou smiled more broadly before continuing. "Any change in your diet?"

Shake.

"Recently working out, or working out more often?"

Shake.

"Sexually active?"

Alfred flushed but shook his head all the same. The doctor didn't stop and comment though, so Alfred didn't feel half as embarrassed as he usually would have.

"Change in sleeping habits?"

Alfred began to shake his head, but stopped and nodded instead.

A few beeps alerted the doctor to take the thermometer out. The blond looked at the digital numbers. "Your temperature's just fine, so that's good."

Next Doctor You-Ou asked Alfred to take off his jacket and shirt. The teenager complied, but shivered when he felt the cold of the examination room. The man then stepped back and pulled out a metal step from under the metal table with the toe of his shoe and asked Alfred to hop up. Alfred grumbled about the table being too complicated as he stepped up and sat on the paper he had nearly destroyed in his first attempt. The doctor fastened a black Velcro blood pressure cuff around his bare forearm. His stethoscope was adjusted so the ear tips were in place and the silver diaphragm was in the crook of Alfred's elbow.

"Just relax for a moment please." The doctor began to squeeze the attached grenade-shaped pump and listened closely while he watched the meter. Alfred stayed very still for the doctor, watching the meter as well, curious. He had always been fascinated with medicine and had played with the idea of becoming a pediatrician a few times. His father would always appear in the forefront of his mind, though, and any thought of becoming anything but a lawyer disappeared.

The test was over a few moments later and the doctor had let his smile drop into a frown. "Your blood pressure is quite low. That would explain why you're feeling so loopy." He undid the Velcro and placed it on the table next to Alfred, pulling his stethoscope up to place the diaphragm on Alfred's chest.

"Do you have low blood pressure in your family?"

Alfred shook his head. "Not that I know of."

The doctor nodded, but Alfred spoke up again. "What would cause low blood pressure?"

"Oh, lots of things. It could be caused by a chronic illness, hormonal changes, heat stroke, pregnancy - which I hope isn't the case here. " Dr. You-Ou poked Alfred's belly playfully and Alfred rolled his eyes. "Overdose, over the counter medicines, hemorrhaging, liver Dr. You-Ou lure-"

"Hemorrhaging?" Alfred asked, cutting the blond off. "You mean losing blood could lower your blood pressure?"

"Well yes, it could. But one would have to lose about thirty percent of their blood to have such a drastic effect on your body." The doctor paused and looked Alfred over. "You didn't mention that you were physically hurt in the paperwork you filled out, though."

"No. I'm just curious, that's all." Alfred smiled trying to stave off the horrible feeling gnawing at his insides. "So would you get low blood pressure if you donated blood or something?"

"Goodness, no. They only take about ten percent of your blood. Not nearly enough to really make a difference in your blood pressure." He thought for a moment. "Though you might be a bit dizzy and lightheaded after donating blood."

Alfred nodded and stayed quiet while the doctor talked and continued to exam him, all the while trying his hardest not to think about his dream last night. He touched his neck absentmindedly as Dr. You-Ou told him that besides the low blood pressure everything else checked out. He suggested that perhaps he had been working too hard and that he should try getting a little rest, seeing as Alfred had nodded yes to a change in sleeping patterns. He recommended plenty of fluids and to take it easy for a while. After writing him a note to excuse him from his classes at the university and work, Alfred left the clinic with Francis.

* * *

><p>Oh my God guys, I'm soo sorry you all had to wait so long for this! I tried making this chapter a bit longer to make up for it. I'll try to be better (I promise) I've just been busy with applying for a RA position at my college, midterms, organizing club events (I'm becoming president of my club next semester so I've been taking on more responsibilities) and my birthday is in a few days as well (March 9th if anyone cares :3)<p>

Special thanks to Elle Eclaire for edits~


	5. Body Shots

Hola!

Yay I'm actually kinda on schedule for this chapter! As an added bonus (for making you all wait so long on the last chapter) I wrote a bit more _and_ added something a bit juicier at the end~

Hope you enjoy reading this chapter! (cause I sure enjoyed writing it ;D)

* * *

><p>Chapter 4 : Body shots<p>

"Alfred."

Alfred opened his eyes to darkness, looking around his room. He sat up slowly and in the pitch of the night he saw them - green eyes peering at him. He sat there for a moment watching the eyes, gulping down a lump in his throat. It didn't pass. He felt chilled, his fingers and toes going numb and his lips feeling cool breath on them.

"Alfred," the voice whispered again. This time the eyes were closer. Alfred was shocked when his body moved on its own, lifting up his shirt and dropping it on the floor.

"Good boy," the voice purred. The eyes were closer still. With them a dark silhouette was seen, gliding towards him. Alfred's heart pounded in his ears. Cold fingers were on his chest, frigid lips against the shell of his ear. "Kiss me."

Alfred's body again moved against his will, his mouth searching blindly in the dark for Arthur's lips. He found his neck first, and placed slow butterfly kisses against the smooth skin. With every kiss Alfred grew colder, yet his body continued. He leaned up, brushing his lips along Arthur's throat and jaw until he found his lips. He placed a gentle kiss against them as well, breathing in winter breath and tasting the faint bitter tang on the older man's lips. Arthur allowed Alfred to do this for a moment until Alfred was against the wall next to his bed, his lips now being ravished with painfully hard nips and a probing bitter tongue. Alfred pushed forward, kissing the man back, lifting his hands up and wrapping them around Arthur's neck. Sight was useless to him but he felt the man smile against his lips before pulling back so there was a fraction of an inch between the pair of parted lips.

"Lie down, Alfred."

He did. Arthur straddled him, and then Alfred saw them in the darkness below his eyes - the glint of sickle sharp fangs glaring at him. He began to move on his own again at the sight, squirming under Arthur and trying to get up. Strong hands grasped his shoulders and forced him to be still. They were like iron bars holding him down; his panic rose as he brought his hands to Arthur's forearms, trying to pry them off. Arthur laughed, the cackle ripping through him like a blade of ice. Arthur squeezed Alfred's shoulders and Alfred began to feel weak, his strength fading fast.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Alfred? Don't you remember?" The smiling fangs turned stretched abnormally wide under the eyes, the combination looking very much like the Cheshire Cat. "You're mine."

In a flash Arthur's sharp teeth tore at his neck, ripping him open.

Alfred jumped and opened his eyes, flipping over in his bed so he could grope for his nightstand lamp, knocking over his alarm clock in the process. Yellow light illuminated the room and his eyes darted back and forth, looking for any uninvited guests. No one was there. He sighed and laid back in his bed, his heart thrumming painfully fast beneath his ribs. He squeezed his eyes shut and scrubbed his face with the heels of his palms. He rolled over and grabbed his phone off the nightstand along with his glasses and curled up so he was facing the wall again. He flipped his phone open and began typing out a message.

_Hey. U up?_

He waited for a while, looking at the clock on the phone to see that it was about three in the morning. He did the quick math in his head and knew that it must be around midnight where he was sending the text. Matt should still be up. His phone vibrated and he flipped it open and pressed the OK button so he could receive the message.

_I am now._

Oops. Maybe he went to bed earlier then he used to.

_Sry can we talk 4 a bit?_

He didn't have to wait long at all for the next reply.

_Sure. Wht's up?_

Another message followed that one immediately.

_*What's_

Alfred smirked as his fingers mashed the buttons on the phone's keyboard.

_Nothin much… had a bad dream and cant zzzzzz _

_What was the dream about?_

Alfred's cheeks puffed out as he blew out a lungful of air. He knew Matt cared, but waking up your brother in the middle of the night to tell him he was dreaming about getting molested and killed by a vampire, especially post-Twilight, seemed like grounds for being called a pussy for at least a month.

_Scary monstr killin me in my room_

_That's kinda cliché._

_But it waz soooooo scary matty! D:_

_You're ridiculous…. =_=;_

Alfred smiled, already feeling his fright beginning to lessen its grasp on his mind. He flipped over onto his stomach and was about to type out another message when he received one.

_How are you? Haven't heard from you in a few days._

Alfred contemplated telling Matt that he had been home for the past two days, studying and catching up on his video games. While it sounded nice, and it certainly _was_ nice to have a breather so he could catch up on his sleep, the lightheadedness and fatigue he felt was slow to leave his body. He had drank plenty of fluids (a recommendation from Dr. You-Ou, but a requirement from "Dr. Bonnefoy") which did make him feel a little better, but mostly had the teenager up and using the bathroom more often.

_Went 2 the clinic on wed_

Alfred almost wished he hadn't sent the text the moment his thumb let the message fly over to Matt. He didn't want to worry his brother, and the guy was rather protective of Alfred. Not that Alfred wasn't equally as protective, but Matt living with their mom for most of their lives had officially turned him into a constant worry-wart. The phone buzzed, then buzzed again as a second message overlapped the first one.

_O.O_

_You? You actually went to a clinic? Hell must've frozen over…_

Alfred frowned and began to type. Another buzz.

_What's wrong? Do you feel okay?_

He read the message and went to his drafts to finish his message. Buzz.

_Why am I just now hearing about this? Have you been eating just junk? You're going to kill yourself if you don't eat right. I'm surprised you're not always sick._

The college student clicked his tongue in annoyance and quickly typed so he wouldn't be interrupted again.

_If youd just wait a sec id tell ya_

He hit send and clicked over to his drafts so he could keep writing the message he had already started.

_Ok… so the other day i guess my blood pressure or whatevs just dropped crazy low over nite and i feel weak and dizzy and i'm not even hungry at all. Couldnt even really get out of bed. Fran had to wake me up. :-( _

_*You're* not hungry? Wow… you really are sick…_

_Asshole :p_

_Lol. Just kidding. That kinda sucks. Do you know why your blood pressure just suddenly dropped like that?_

_Idk… doc said it might be in the family. _

Alfred looked at that message before he sent it, contemplating whether or not to tell Matthew what he really thought happened to him the night before Wednesday morning. He decided it wouldn't be wise to worry his brother with something stupid like a dream, no matter how real it seemed. He settled for tacking on "_Feel like i been havin bad nitemares all week_" with another frowny face and sent the message.

_Sorry about the nightmares. : ( I'm pretty sure there has never been any history of LBP in our family. I'm not really sure though so don't quote me. _

_Whatevs. I dont really care. I feel better 2day then i did on wed._

_That's good. *thumbs up* _

Alfred smiled warmly at his phone.

_I feel lots better now matty! Thxs bunch. Sorry bout wakin u. say hi to bella and tim 4 me! _

_It's cool. I'll tell them. Hope you feel better. Night Al._

Alfred laid his head down on his phone, closing his eyes. He wasn't really tired, and tomorrow - well, today really - was Saturday so he didn't have to get up again. His boss, Mrs. Reiner, had been pretty understanding when Francis had gone to give her the doctor's note. She insisted that everything was fine and to take the rest of the week off, sending her wishes with his roommate for him to feel better. He opened galactic blue eyes and pushed himself up and off his bed, grabbing his glasses as he walked to his door. He didn't feel like sleeping again, and even though he did feel a bit calmer from talking to Matt, he still had something uncomfortable tugging at the back of his mind. He scratched his exposed abdomen, passing up putting on a shirt to go with his plaid flannel sweats. He intended to go and get a bottle of lemonade out of the fridge and channel surf until he settled on the Discovery channel. He exited as quietly as he could and heard the TV already going in the living room. He frowned a bit and made his way down the hallway to find Gilbert curled up on the couch with a plastic Double Gulp cup from 7-11. Alfred squinted and saw that the cup was halfway filled with Captain Crunch and milk. He snorted, gaining Gilbert's attention.

"Are we out of bowls?" He asked, heading to the kitchen, shaking his head and chuckling quietly in case Francis was sleeping. He wandered over to the fridge to grab his sought after drink before joining his roommate on the couch. Gilbert shrugged, his red tinted eyes never leaving the program on the television.

"Nah, but I don't feel like doing dishes tonight." He shook his cup a bit to prove a point. "This is plastic so I can just throw it away, ya know?" He paused before grumbling about the 'stupid French maid.'

Alfred nodded and turned his eyes to see what Gilbert was watching, smirking when he saw Family Guy flashing across the screen. A kind of derpy looking horse appeared to be eating Stewie's head in this scene.

"Why are you up?" Gilbert asked, tipping his 'bowl' back so the cereal could reach his mouth.

"Why are _you _up?" Alfred countered.

"I'm kinda still hung-over and I'm hungry. Your turn." Gilbert said this through a mouthful of cereal, maneuvering his legs so they weren't tucked under him anymore.

"I can't sleep," Alfred responded.

"No shit." Gilbert laughed, his usually boisterous volume muted. "Why can't you sleep?"

"I keep having stupid nightmares," Alfred grumbled, twisting off the cap on his lemonade and taking a big gulp.

The albino man looked at him for a moment before offering his cup to Alfred, still chewing. "Ya want some cereal? Eating always helps me sleep."

The blonde laughed and shook his head. "Nah, I'm good."

"We have booze. Would that be better?"

Alfred thought about it for a moment. It would be nice to sleep without having to see Arthur again. It was almost irritating waking up in panic and confusion. He shook his head though. He was pretty sure drinking and having really low blood pressure would not be a good idea. "Thanks man, but I'm good."

Gilbert hummed and kept on eating. it was then that Alfred noticed that Gil had a bruise on the side of his forehead, nearly covered up by his white hair.

"What happened?"

The older man looked over and Alfred pointed at his own forehead. Gilbert nodded and looked back at the screen, just as the younger took another swig of his drink.

"Lizzy's rough in the sack."

Some of the lemonade went down the wrong pipe and Alfred spluttered and coughed. Gilbert laughed out loud at that, leaning over to pound Alfred on the back, a little too hard to be honest. He was being more harmful then helpful.

"Easy, virgin. It's not that big of a deal." Gilbert smirked, warmly accepted the death glare from Alfred.

"Ugh… dude… She's one of my best friends, it's going to be weird looking at her now that I have that mental image burned into my head."

Elizabeta, or Lizzy, was one of the handful of friends that Alfred had kept since meeting at orientation. She was a fun, well-tempered girl that, up until a few weeks ago, had been dating a different college student from a more prestigious school. Was his name Rod? It was Rod-something… Roderich? Anyway, he knew that Gilbert had had his eye on her even before he had moved in with him and Francis. No matter how much of an ass Gilbert could be, though, he never pursued her while she was dating someone else. Guess even Gilbert had standards that he wouldn't violate.

"I see zat everyone is up tonight." A voice floated down the hallway and Alfred looked up in time to see Francis emerging from the dark hallway and into the flicking light of the living room. He was wearing grey sweatpants and a button up pajama shirt that had all the buttons undone. Gilbert smirked. "Seems kinda stupid to wear a shirt if you're not going to wear it right." Gil stuck out his bare chest, sporting the same look as Alfred with only loose pajama pants on. "You should just take it off and look like a real man like Al and I."

The Frenchman rolled his eyes as he walked to the couch. Alfred immediately scooted over to the middle so Francis could sit too. The man took his seat before grabbing Al's shoulder and yanking him into an awkward side hug and holding him there. "You're looking much better, mon cher."

Al laughed, not holding back as he elbowed Francis playfully but remaining pressed up against his side. "Yeah, sleeping all day would make anyone look better. Speaking of sleeping, why are you up? Were we too loud or something?"

"Sleep? You gotta be kidding me!" Gilbert laughed, slamming his empty cup down on the coffee table. "Francis doesn't sleep!"

Alfred and Francis glanced over at him with an odd look, and Gilbert was courteous enough to not leave them hanging. "I mean seriously Al, have you ever seen Francis sleeping? Ever?"

"Just because I do not sleep 'alf my life away like you, you assume I never sleep. Though to be 'onest I 'ave been up working on an upcoming case for a few nights now."

Gilbert shrugged and got up, wandering over to the fridge to grab himself a beer, slight hangover apparently forgotten already. "I swear, Francis, you never sleep. It's not normal."

"Welcome to the life of a lawyer," Alfred said, smirking at Gilbert as he walked back to the couch and threw himself over both of their legs, managing not to spill his beer. A small tussle ensued, with Gilbert ended up the winner and remaining in their laps with a wide triumphant smile.

"See, that's why I don't get why you two are becoming lawyers." The albino situated himself so he was more comfortably laying across his roommates, his head in Francis's lap and his upper back crushing Alfred's. "It's suicidal. The only good thing about it is that you get a shit load of money."

"_If _you are good," Francis interjected, snatching Gilbert's beer from his fingers despite the man's protest and taking a long gulp, his nose scrunching up at the flavor. "Ugh, how can you stand zis?"

"If you don't like it, don't drink it!" Gilbert went to grab it back when Alfred took his turn and took a sip too. He licked his lips and handed it back to Gilbert who, at this point, was pouting.

"Don't drink that! I don't want your disease," Gilbert whined, but gulped down whatever remained in the can anyway.

The three stayed on the couch for a while longer. Gilbert went through three more beers and seven different positions. Alfred went and got a second lemonade and Francis ended up eventually giving in and fixing himself a small glass of chilled white wine. They talked for what felt like hours about anything that popped into their minds. They found themselves walking around the living room, laying out on the couch, sitting on the floor, and laughing against the wall.

"How have you not been laid yet, Al?" Gilbert asked. All three of them were still laughing and chuckling after one of Francis's horror stories of a sexy night gone wrong. Al was laying back on the couch, blowing at the lip of his empty lemonade bottle to produce a low hum. He smiled lightly and just shrugged. "It's not like I haven't thought about it. I'm just…" He sat up a bit so he could look at Gilbert sitting on the floor and Francis sitting on the low coffee table. "I just haven't met her… or him… I don't care right now, ya know? I just…" He flopped back on the couch, a bit exasperated that his words weren't coming out the way he wanted them to. "I've kinda made it this far you know… I don't wanna lose it to just anyone. I wanna loose it to someone I love at least."

It was silent for a moment, the TV filling in as comfortable background noise.

"Dude, you are so gay," Gilbert slurred, cracking a wide toothy smile and laughing out loud.

"No." Francis smirked. "If 'e were gay 'e would've lost 'is virginity a long time ago."

"You guys are dicks." Alfred pouted, resulting in his roommates breaking out into laughter all over again. It was contagious though, because Alfred found himself laughing along with them too. He knew they didn't mean any harm; he thought it was weird sometimes too.

"Well." Francis stood up, stretching with his empty glass in hand. He wandered into the kitchen to wash it, a devilish smirk pulling his lips. "If you ever want to experience adulthood, you know oo to come to."

Gilbert made a gagging noise and shook his head. "Dude! No way! If Al's losing his V card, then he has to lose it to a girl!" He looked at Alfred, a semi-serious expression on his face. "Besides, hooking up with a prostitute would be better than hooking up with Francis. Less diseases."

"Excusez-moi?" Francis's voice hollered from the kitchen. The Frenchman threw a rather dirty look at Gilbert from the sink. " 'ow rude! I 'ave no diseases!"

"Listen man, with all the people you bang, I'm surprised you don't have a few kids already. I'm sure you've got a few diseases."

"Then you would assume wrong, mon ami ignorants. I'll 'ave you know I get tested every month and due to being prepared for every sexual encounter, I am clean."

Alfred decided that now was probably the best time to make his exit. He made a huge show of yawning and mentioning going to bed before ducking out of the living room into the hallway. He had just closed the door to his bedroom when he heard Gilbert poking fun at Francis's habit for keeping everything clean. This was normal for them though; they would die down in about fifteen minutes or so. That being said, Alfred felt no guilt at all in taking off his glasses, turning off the lights, and snuggling back into his blankets. He'd stay out of this one, even if he _had _just heard Francis's wine glass being shattered and the argument kicking up another notch.

.

"Why the sudden push to work out so much?"

"Hmm?"

"I said, why the sudden push to work out so much?"

Alfred shrugged and started draining his water bottle, little streams of ice cold liquid dribbling over the edges and down his chin. The water made its way down to the collar of his long sleeved shirt. His face was sweaty from his run despite the cold temperatures outside and he was just about to hit the gym at the college when Mattie had video messaged him over Skype. It had been a few weeks now since he had been 'sick' and, beside the occasional spell of lightheadedness in the first week, he was soon fit as a fiddle. He had a nightmare every now and then but they were getting fewer and fewer with each passing week. However, the same dream continued to scare him, waking him up in the middle of the night and making it impossible to go back to sleep without looking over his shoulder for the next few dark hours. It wasn't Arthur himself that really scared Alfred, but the thought of being easily overpowered and taken advantage of. He hated feeling powerless, like he wasn't in control any more. Even if it was a dream, it had motivated him enough to eat healthier and to start going to the gym nearly every day to build up the muscle he had lost when he got into college. He had already gained some muscle weight and the slight pooch that had poked his belly out had begun to sink back and make way for the beginnings of a six pack. He had to admit, he liked working out again; it made him feel more energized. The only downside was that Francis was a bit grabbier then usual. He was used to Francis's playful advances but it was getting a little irritating feeling a hand on his ass when his back was turned. Even Gilbert, who was completely straight, started making cat calls at him when his shirt was off. This usually resulted in Alfred's face flushing and a laugh at his expense. They were starting to back off a bit though, which worked for Alfred because getting harassed and called 'pretty boy' was starting to get old.

"Are you thinking about joining the baseball team out there? You were pretty good back in high school. If you're getting back in shape you should pick up sports again," Mattie said, leaning forward on his desk in the video box. He blew a stray hair out of his face a few times before tucking it behind his ear in an irritated manner.

"Yeah. Maybe I'll do that… but ya know, I just wanted to get back in shape. I felt fat."

"You were fat," Matt confirmed. He smiled innocently when Alfred gave him a dirty look. "Okay, you weren't fat, you were pudgy."

"Anyway!" Alfred cut in, resulting in Matthew chuckling quietly. What was with everybody picking on him lately? "I'm hanging up on you. I gotta go."

"Wait, I actually called you for a reason," Matthew stopped him from hanging up. Alfred raised an eyebrow, but pulled his hand back from the mouse so he could listen. "Dad called me. He said you haven't been picking up your phone."

Alfred frowned but made a noncommittal noise as he leaned back in his computer chair. "I've just been busy, and to be honest I don't really feel like talking to him."

"Come on, Al. You're acting like a little kid," Matthew said disapprovingly. "Besides, when you don't pick up he starts bugging me with calls."

"You know what he wants to talk about though… I don't feel like getting the guilt trip. I'm already dealing with a lot of shit right now. I don't need his as well."

"You know, mom wouldn't have-"

"Matt, don't even start with me on that."

It was silent for a few moments before Alfred lied about homework that he needed to finish and hung up on his brother. He sat at his desk for a while longer before he got back up, grabbing his iPod and car keys on his way out. The ground had been surprisingly snow free for the past few days, a rare occurrence since winter was practically upon them. He considered going to the gym but ended up leaving the door unlocked and going for another run, taking advantage of the noticeably warmer weather. The crisp air made his lungs ache but he was quick to get used to it like he did earlier that day. He pushed his ear buds into his ear and played some of the few heavy metal songs he had stored on his playlist.

He didn't know how long he had been out for, but by the time he had returned home it was beginning to get dark and colder still. He hurried into the house, shivering and rubbing his arms. He made a beeline to the cabinet in the kitchen that held all the hard alcohol and grabbed the rum he had bought a few weeks back with his fake ID. He pulled down a cup and fetched a coke from the fridge. He poured enough soda to fill up a third of the cup before filling it the rest of the way with rum. He braced himself as he took a long drink, trying to ignore the way the alcohol took his breath away. It was way too strong, but he felt the welcoming burn begin to heat his insides. He paused and swallowed what was already in his mouth, a low groan settling in the back of his throat.

"Francis?" He called out. "Gilbert?"

There was no response, which he was a little upset about. The one night he did want to party and get drunk and they weren't here. Typical. He went to his room to get his cell to call them, bringing his coke and rum with him. He grabbed his phone and flipped it open, ignoring the new text from his brother to dial Francis's number, taking another swallow of his drink.

Francis didn't pick up. He dialed Gilbert.

"What up, Alfie?" Gilbert answered on the third ring.

"Where are you?" Alfred asked, plopping down in his computer chair.

"I'm with Lizzy. Why?"

Alfred heard a bit of a commotion before he heard a pretty soprano voice on the other line. "Alfred! I miss you!"

Alfred laughed around the rim of his drink. "I miss you too, Lizzy. You guys wanna go out tonight? I wanna get drunk."

"Finally!" Lizzy giggled into the phone. "We are going to get you so fucked up tonight! Start getting ready. We'll come and pick you up. Where should we go?"

"I don't care. Surprise me." Alfred smiled and stood up, going through his closet for something to wear. He settled on a navy blue T-shirt with a little white moose logo on the left side of his chest that Elizabeta had bought him on a forced trip to their out-of-the-way mall, as well as a pair of black jeans from the same store the shirt was from. He listened to Elizabeta talk to Gilbert about clubs while he debated on which jacket to bring before defaulting to his favorite bomber jacket.

"Okay, we'll go to Cat's Eye. Just be ready when we get there, okay?"

"Cool, but I have to shower. I'm sweaty."

"That's fine. We'll be there in thirty."

They hung up and Alfred grabbed a quick shower, blow drying his hair and quickly changing into his clothes. He had just pulled his jeans up when he heard the front door open and immediately after Elizabeta was bursting into his room.

"Alfred! Are you still not ready?" She posed in his doorway, hands on her slim hips as she gave her signature pout. She was dressed in a rather risqué envy green dress and dangerously high heels, radiating a wild beauty that only she could truly pull off.

Alfred flashed a toothy grin at his best friend as he pulled his shirt over his head. It was tight on him but he was feeling confident after working out and getting a bit leaner. Lizzy whistled.

"Damn Alfred, you _have _been working out." She turned her head and shouted down the hall so her boyfriend could hear her. "Why can't you look hot like Alfred?"

"Bite me, bitch!"

Alfred and Lizzy laughed and Alfred grabbed his wallet, fake ID, and the bomber jacket before heading out of his room. Lizzy looked at the jacket and clicked her tongue, shaking her head. "I really hope you don't think I'm letting you out of the house with that old thing. Where's the grey hoodie that actually looks good on you?"

Alfred rolled his eyes and turned around to grab the more stylish jacket that Elizabeta had bullied him into buying. It actually went well with this outfit and he didn't feel like losing an argument to the woman. The longer they stayed there, the longer he went without getting drunk.

Gilbert emerged from his room in dark clothing; his jeans were tight and so was his shirt. A few of his swirled tattoos peeked out from under the short sleeves of his shirt. He smelled like expensive cologne. "Let's get outta here. I called the French Maid and he said he's already there."

They had to drive a little ways to get to the club since it was farther into the city but it was well worth the drive. They easily got in, Alfred's ID only briefly glanced at before he was allowed into the pounding loudness of the club. He immediately went straight to the bar and ordered the first round of drinks, having to shout over the music playing. The bartender nodded and went to work fixing the drinks as Alfred looked around the club for Francis. He found the man surrounded by a small group of women, two of them curled up into his sides giggling and flipping their hair in a flirtatious manner. Alfred smirked. Same old Francis. Lizzy and Gilbert were at his side in an instant, all of them grabbing their drinks and clicking them together before downing them. Al had already forgotten what he had ordered; it was a hard liquor and it had tasted sweet and fiery on the way down. He licked his lips when the tumbler was empty and slammed it down on the bar's surface, the loud noise hardly making a dent in the music assaulting his eardrums.

This was how it was for a little bit, the three of them drinking and laughing and dancing for a while until Lizzy found herself pulled into Gilbert's lap, the two locking lips and forgetting completely about Alfred. He didn't mind though. He was feeling a bit bold now that he was really feeling the buzz of alcohol in his system. He found a group doing body shots and was immediately pulled into the mix of tequila and lime slices. He laughed and bellowed along with the others as a girl poured the amber liquor into another girls navel, throwing salt in-between her friend's ample exposed cleavage and placing a lime in between her cherry painted lips. She drank up the liquor and lapped at her chest to lick up the salt to the hooting and hollering of the small crowd gathered around them before making out with the girl with the lime in her mouth. Alfred was soon yanked up on the bar by whoever it was that was pulling him along for the ride and his shirt and hoodie were deprived of him before he was pushed to lay down across the bar's cool, hard surface. A pretty brunette girl, who was obviously smashed, started sloppily pouring tequila into his navel. He sucked in his stomach so the liquid wouldn't fall off the sides as a guy licked at his chest so salt could stick there. The bartender, a very busty gorgeous blonde, laughed along and was the one to push a lime into his open mouth.

A few people had a go with him, most of them girls, before a fairly attractive man with black hair and blue eyes pulled Alfred off the bar to make out with him against a stool. The man was taller then Alfred which was a bit refreshing. He was pushed into the barstool, the man licking and biting at his lips as his fingers roamed over his still wet and salty chest. The blond thought the man said his name was Damien or something that started with a "day" sound. He got a few more drinks from the man before a hand was on his bare shoulder and a different, more familiar voice was at his ear.

"Mon cher, I am 'urt that you could 'ave so much fun without me."

Alfred turned to see Francis standing behind him and day-whatever was forgotten as he turned around and locked lips with Francis instead. He heard a surprised muffled sound come from the older man before he felt another body pushing him from behind. The black haired man was kissing his neck and Alfred found two sets of lips on his, alcohol soaked tongues mingling with his own in the three-way kiss. He moaned and closed his eyes, his hands grabbing at both Francis's and Day-man's shirts. Four hands roamed his body, tweaking dusky nipples and grabbing jean covered ass. The dark haired one pulled away for a moment to grab a shot off the bar, throwing it back, and grabbing Alfred's face so he could push the drink past his lips. It was vodka. No... It was tequila. Alfred stopped trying to stress the small details and took the shot, sucking it down and allowing the stranger full access when his lips parted for him. The coolness of the tongue probed his mouth and suddenly memories started flashing back into Alfred's mind. His dark room, cold kisses, green eyes, sharp fangs. He shoved the man away forcefully and was about to get his mindset right when Francis's lips were on him again, pushing him into the bar and grinding his hips into Alfred's. The warmth of the Frenchman's tongue chased away any thought he previously had. He closed his dilated blue eyes and wrapped his arms around Francis's neck, his fingers twining through his shoulder length hair.

Lips were growling French words into his ear, he could vaguely make out the word 'beautiful' and a few really filthy swears but Alfred was far too long gone to even begin to decipher them. The fact that Francis was speaking exclusively in his native tongue was a hint and a half that he was fucked up too.

He opened his eyes when Francis began sucking on his neck, and saw Lizzy standing there with her arms crossed and the biggest shit-eating grin on her face. Her green eyes sparkling at the little show she was getting. Gilbert was standing there as well with a similar look, but he was shaking his head in amusement. "Alfred, you are seriously wasted, my man!"

Francis pulled away from Alfred's neck to give them a knowing and wicked grin, speaking to the couple in a low voice. Alfred couldn't hear, and wasn't bothered to either. He just looked around. The moving neon lights in the dark club were mesmerizing and he considered turning around to order another drink. Now if only he could remember how to use his arms…

The next moments of his life seemed to blur into blackness. He remembered being led from the club at some point and buckled into the passenger seat of someone's car. The ride was over in seconds and he could vaguely feel the chill on his face when he was being pulled out of the car. He legs moved sluggishly under him. Was he wearing a shirt? He was pushed back on a soft surface and was asleep instantly. For the first time in weeks Alfred was blessed with a completely dreamless night.

* * *

><p>Do I love you guys or do I love you guys!<p>

Woo…. Those last few pages just flew outta me like nobody's business…. I am so freaking tired…. It is like…. 2AM where I am and I have Social Problems class at 9AM. :'D

Please don't stress yourselves if you're worried about who Al ends up with. I promise it ends USUK so don't fret my lovelies.

If you all wish to follow me on Tumblr (http:/ fauxpuissant .tumblr. com) then you'll see that I'm gonna upload fan art and updates and all that jazz if you will.

Imma gonna go to sleep now… *yaaaawns* sooo sleepppy….

Until next time my loves~

Special thanks to Elle Eclaire for edits~


	6. Bleeding Stupidity

Chapter 5~ Bleeding Stupidity

A small whimper was ignored in an alleyway. It was dark, and the young and fake were out and about to party. It was Thursday night but down in the tropics the slightly cooler weather of mid-November didn't hinder the pre-adults from going out and laying waste to their conscious minds and family's morals. Another tiny sound of distress fell on deaf ears as they walked past the alley, laughing, drinking, smoking, and paying no heed to their surroundings. They were the easiest of prey. Those who held no heed for danger, welcoming it willingly.

Arthur had captured a young girl that night. Her long thin hair had been dyed a ridiculous blue color and her clothing was dark and riddled with unnecessary buckles and chains. She was too young to have so much make up plastered on her face and from the look of her eyebrows she should've had light brown hair. A color, Arthur thought, that would've suited her far better then periwinkle. She had willingly come to him when she saw him in the bar and Arthur couldn't help but indulge her fantasies when she asked him stupid questions. She was the type of teenager that thought she believed in the dark world, thought she _knew _what the dark world was. The more he listened to her drone on about the darkness and the ludicrous accusations of what she believed in, the easier it became. He told her what he was and she thought she had found her fairy tale creature, excitedly pulling him from his chair and into a back alleyway so he could "turn her." What an idiot.

She was expecting it to be her dream come true. So when Arthur shoved her against the concrete wall of one of the uglier buildings, she welcomed it, pulling off her necklace and exposing her throat to him. He was sickened by the zero resistance he was met with. It was no fun if they cooperated, so he opted to make her dream a nightmare. He waited until she was looking at him to let his fangs draw out, loving the way her face changed from admiration into pure terror. A piece of her deep down, the little piece of rational thought she had buried under her silly obsession with the dark, finally reared it's head. Arthur was dangerous, and now that she realized it, it was far too late. She opened her mouth to scream and Arthur lashed out in an instant, his teeth clamping around her black painted lips and biting down. He yanked his head back with his teeth still fastened around those lips and ripped them off. Her teeth and gums were exposed in the most gruesome of bloody smiles. The venom leaking from his fangs was already taking effect. She was beginning to go limp, whimpers and gurgled sounds of pain made their way out of her wrecked mouth. She didn't taste all that good. He spat the detached flesh from his mouth and onto the ground and smacked his lips in disgust. He had thought that she would've been a little purer in blood because she was so young, obviously sixteen or seventeen, but he was sorely disappointed. From the small taste he could already tell that she was beginning to smoke, that she had lost her virginity long ago, and that she was already experimenting with drugs other than marijuana. Arthur looked at her and sighed, closing his teeth around her flesh to yank a chunk out of her throat. A small cry fell from her mangled mouth and salty tears were running her thick eyeliner down her face. He leaned down and began sucking and chewing at her neck, drawing blood out as fast as he could so he could drain her and be done with her. He looked past the flavor and focused on the little nourishment that the tainted blood provided for him.

Waste not, want not, he thought bitterly.

She was a very thin girl, so it didn't take long for her skin to begin turning paler and sink in. The flesh vacuumed in around her bones so her skeleton was more sharply defined. She gurgled through the blood clogging her airwayes and Arthur bit down violently to stop her breathing altogether. Ripping out her trachea so it yanked up her chest before it was severed. The bloody tube hanging from the opening in her neck was ignored as he went in to drain the last of her quickly. At least this way she could remain silent as he finished.

He pulled back, letting her crumple to the ground, face hollowed out and gore starting from her mouth down to her chest. The dark clothing masked the beautiful color of scarlet and Arthur kicked her aside as he headed farther down the alley. She would eventually be found and briefly covered in the morning news. The parents would cry and sob on the telly over the loss of their 'baby girl', but Arthur felt as if he had done them a favor in eliminating the burden of a child. They would send out a courtesy search party and give up a month into the investigation when they found no leads and had no finger prints to go off of. The initial shock would wear off and the parents would move on. Perhaps they would have another child that wasn't such a total loser. Though, considering the stupidity of this kid, Arthur was all in favor of sterilizing the both of them since they were obviously failures as parents.

He looked down at himself and scoffed. The spilled blood had ruined the shirt he had stolen and he decide to shuck the cloth off before wiping his mouth as best he could. Blood wasn't going to come off that easily though, especially since it had soaked through his shirt and was now beginning to dry on his chest in the mildly chilled wind. Thankfully there was a beach not too far away.

He glanced around when he reached the opposite mouth of the ally. It was clear, for the most part. A few young men and women were exiting a bar but they were too caught up in themselves to see Arthur pass them by. A few blocks were passed and soon he was stepping behind a four story beachside hotel and onto the sand. His body was overly warm after his kill, fresh warm blood pumping through his body and warming up his skin as a consequence. His new acquired warmth made his nerves recognize the coolness of the night more acutely and goose bumps erupted down his arms. He headed to the shore, pulling off his shoes and socks and rolling up his dark jeans to he could wade into the ocean. He hissed at the temperature and managed to get about a foot or so deep before bending over so he could scoop up the salty water. He scrubbed his face and chest with the chilly salt water, trying his best to rid himself of the dried blood. He stood up looking around the beach. He wasn't alone, his eyes could see a couple erratically humping a couple dozen meters away. He rolled his eyes and waded back to land. He knew the couple couldn't see him, it was too dark, but he had the misfortune of seeing them.

Humans thought vampires could see perfectly in the dark, and they were right to an extent. His eyes refracted even the tiniest sliver of light so he could assess his immediate surroundings better. However, this small change was only good for seeing better at night. His vision wasn't all perfect. He certainly couldn't read a book from a ridiculous distance. His eyes more closely resembled those of a nocturnal animal then those of a super human.

He plopped down in the sand and turned to face the waves so he could ignore the teenage couple as best he could. He could still taste that girl in his mouth and he promptly spat into the sand to get some of the bitterness out. He hated this generation. The drugs, the sexual diseases, the stupidity… It wasn't just in America, though. It was everywhere. He had to admit that the Japanese were a bit easier on the pallet with how a good chunk of them still had decent morals, but their over-cautiousness made it a pain in the ass to get one of them in a position where he could drain them. America was his newest venture, and he had only been here for about a year. He supposed he could stay a little longer until he found a way to get back to Europe.

He tried to think of the a to go next and that blond college boy popped up into the forefront of his mind. His mouth started watering. Typically, Arthur's personal rule was that he tried to avoid the same place for a year or so just to be on the safe side. It wasn't often, but a few times he had been recognized and Arthur tried to avoid that if at all possible. He remembered the flavor and his fangs peaked from his lips, venom running freely from them, almost as if he was ready to take a bite out of the boy now.

What was his name again?

Arthur stood and wiped his mouth, trying to get a hold of himself. He shook the sand off and looked at his sneakers and socks. He left them. He needed a new outfit anyway.

He went into the city. It was early, early morning at this time, so all the night commotion was down to a low roar. He picked out a fancy clothing store and ducked into the back ally. He located the metal box that would serve as key and got to work disabling the power and the alarm system. He found a metal bar of some sort in the garbage and took a quick accurate swing at the lock on the box. It feel away easily and Arthur made quick work of the wires. He closed the box and made his way to the front to try the door and was pleased to see that it let him in. He was lucky that the door was an automatic lock.

He heard a motorcycle behind him, and ignored it until it pulled to a stop near the curb. "Excuse me!"

Arthur cussed and peeked over his shoulder to see a lone cop putting up the kickstand to his motorcycle. He really wasn't in the mood to be held up. He kept his back to the police man.

"Sir, can I ask what you are doing here at this hour?" The officer had a friendly voice, but it was still stern. Arthur still didn't turn to face him, there no need for the officer to see his face.

When Arthur didn't answer, the officer came closer, his hand twitching to his gun at his side out of reflex. The fellow probably was a family man. Arthur could picture him having two little rug rats and a beautiful wife to go home to when this shift was over. What a pity.

"Sir?" The officer asked again, taking a few steps closer.

Arthur quickly went through his options. None of them were looking good for the nice family police man. Arthur didn't really want to drain another person; he would feel sluggish if he over-gorged himself on blood. He couldn't exactly claim that he owned the establishment he was breaking into. He had no keys, no shirt, no shoes, and quite frankly, it was two in the morning. No owner would be opening shop at this hour.

Arthur sighed and finally turned to look at the officer, sealing the man's fate as soon as warm chestnut brown eyes saw his features. He smiled pleasantly at the man. "Sir, it seems I have been caught breaking and entering."

The man frowned, and Arthur could practically see the uneasiness radiating off of him. His smile deepened. At least this cop wasn't ignoring his instincts about Arthur. He stood right where he was, though, and held his hands out so they were together at the wrists, his smile unwavering. "However, after seeing you, I have seen the error of my ways. I implore you to arrest me, my good man. I certainly deserve it."

It was a trap, and the officer knew it. Arthur didn't look very dangerous the way he was now, but the vampire was trying to bait the man into coming in closer. Since it was apparent that there was no way Arthur could be of any normal threat, the officer came closer. He didn't reach for his handcuffs. It was clear that he wasn't looking for a fight, though now there an strained undertone of cautiousness in his voice that Arthur was delighted to hear.

"Sir, have you been drinking tonight?" the man asked. His discomfort was so palatable that Arthur almost laughed.

"I must admit to having had a rather large nip earlier tonight."

The man took another step, trying to appear casual while he instinctively reached for his weapon. Arthur felt his fangs begin to push down behind his lips, he tried to keep them concealed, waiting for the officer to take two more steps.

"Well, you don't seem to have really caused any trouble yet." Step. "Maybe you're just having an off night, sir. I'll let you go with a warning tonight but-" Step.

That was it. Arthur struck like a viper. The man reeled backward out of instinct and muscle memory from his police training. He reached for his gun, but he was too close to Arthur; he would never make it in time. Fangs lashed out and sunk deeply into the officer's neck and even though he was full from the goth teenager he couldn't help the automatic reaction to drink deeply, especially when the man tasted leaps and bounds better then that stupid girl. The man struggled, pushing Arthur off. One hand grabed at his neck, and the other fumbled for the radio at his belt. His gloved fingers stumbled, the venom already bringing him down. The officer lost his footing and crumpled to the ground. He tried to say something but his vocal cords weren't cooperating either. Arthur licked his lips, savoring the man's flavor. He walked up to the brunet and turned him onto his back with his bare foot. The officer looked up at him, fear, disbelief, and fright shone in his kind eyes. Arthur leaned down and cupped his cheek, smiling.

"It's a shame, officer. If you had just passed me by, perhaps you would've been able to go home tonight."

Arthur looked back and forth and his eyes landed on an old liquor store that really had no business being so close to such a well off clothing store. He shrugged, not about to question the convenience, and grabbed the officer's feet and drug him across the road. He smashed the window and nearly laughed when an alarm wasn't tripped. It was too easy. He unlocked the door and pulled the officer into the store. He leaned down and bit the officer again to put more venom into his system. As soon as he was satisfied that the officer wouldn't be going anywhere, he pulled his fangs back and licked the wounds he'd made. The skin began to close slowly, the pink, puckered membrane sinking back into the skin and turning into the man's natural tanned color. He smiled at the officer and got up, grabbing a bottle of cheep vodka off of a wooden shelf. He broke the top off against the counter and began pouring the liquid all over the officer's paralyzed body.

"I'm a bit sorry that you got mixed up in all of this," Arthur said sincerely, opening a different bottle when the first was empty and pouring it on the man as well. "It's a real shame; you actually don't taste half bad. Do you have a wife?"

The officer's eyes remained alert and at the mention of a spouse, protective anger flashed in his brown orbs. Arthur laughed and toppled over a shelf containing red wine. The loud crash disrupted the somewhat quiet scene and deep crimson liquor flooded the floor.

"Don't worry, my good sir, I'm not going to go after her. I have a different… morsel in mind at this point." He looked around the store and was happy to see that they did in fact sell Zippo lighters here. He smashed the casing open and selected a silver lighter at random before he saw a lighter with the Jolly Rodgers symbol etched into its face. He pocketed that one and pulled a separate lighter out of the smashed case.

A sharp bang followed by breaking glass snapped Arthur out of his thoughts. A wine bottle on the shelf behind him had exploded into a thousand pieces. He looked back at his friend on the floor and found that the man had managed to get his gun out and take poor aim at him. He trembled to make his next shot; it grazed Arthur's shoulder and the vampire hissed, grabbing at his arm and dropping the lighter. The man took aim again but Arthur wasn't going to have it. He jumped forward to kick the gun out of his hand. It hit the ugly, checkered linoleum floor and spun off into the darkness. A small metallic clack sounded when it hit the opposite wall.

Arthur tsked disapprovingly, wagging his finger at the man. "Now, now. Let's not be hasty. I was going to use that gun to kill you so you wouldn't have to feel this, but I suppose you would rather go down with honor. Good man." Arthur nodded and picked up a Zippo lighter off the floor, one with the American's national bird etched onto it, and began walking out of the store. He paused at the entrance and flicked the lighter open. The man watched him, his eyes widening as he struggled to use his limbs. He was beginning to get a little movement back, but his numb hands kept slipping on the alcohol-slicked floor. Arthur finally got a small flame going and saluted the officer on the floor.

"Cheerio, m."

He flicked the live flame into the room and walked briskly away as the place was engulfed in angry flames. He could hear the man screaming weakly inside, and hummed a tuneless song as he crossed the road.

Arthur set off to do his original errand. He entered the clothing store and was quick about picking out several outfits in his size. With his arms quickly getting full he glanced around, scoping the first level until he saw a black leather and nylon duffle bag on display. The man started filling up the tote with his stolen spoils. The zipper made a straining noise as Arthur forced it to close. The bag looked fit to bust.

Now with the clothes situation taken care of, his green eyes sought out the pay counter. He found it and stood up on the tell surface so he could kick the cash register on the ground. Arthur was rewarded with nearly three grand. He pocketed the money in the same pocket that held the Zippo lighter and caught sight of himself in one of the many mirrors.

Good gracious, he looked like a fright. His hair stuck up at odd angles, and the good officer's blood was caked on his cheeks and lips. His jeans were wet at the bottoms and his feet were filthy from walking around barefoot. He made a mental note to grab a few pairs of shoes and a pack of socks on the way out. His shoulder drew his attention though; the long scratch caused from the grazing bullet stung and red dripped down to his wrist. He would have to close that later, but right now he couldn't dally.

He looked around and was happy to see that the clothing store carried a few brands of grooming supplies. He picked the products at random and looked at his duffle. It was too stuffed to put anything more into it, so a new messenger bag was quickly acquired. He rushed and picked up two pairs of shoes, some expensive black socks, a watch, and a leather wallet before he was out the door with his duffle and messenger bags slung over his shoulders. Once out of the store he walked back to the beach along the sidewalk. He could hear sirens coming from the opposite direction and picked up the pace. The fire from the old liquor store was burning brightly now, and though no one lived on that section of street he was sure someone nearby had seen the blaze and notified the authorities. People would be coming out to see what was going on. He noticed too that the friendly officer was no longer screaming. He frowned in the darkness of the morning, actually feeling a pang of guilt for killing someone who was useful to society. He wondered if the man's family and friends would ever get over his unexpected death.

It didn't take long to reach the beach where he ducked into the public outside lockers to locate a shower. He dead bolted the door so no one could come in and set his bags down on the dry counter before stripping out his now dirtied jeans and briefs. He walked up to the mirror and turned his body so he could take a look at his bloody arm. The bullet had just grazed the skin, so the wound itself wasn't that bad at all. He brought his fingers up to his mouth and licked his fingers to coat them with saliva. The slicked fingers were then smeared across the shallow cut and Arthur watched as the skin began to close up. He repeated the process until the raised and angry red skin was pale and smooth again. He nodded, satisfied, and turned to walk to the back of the locker room where the rows of showers were located.

The growing commotion outside hardly bothered him as he shut himself up in a stall. He turned the lever until it reached the red and remembered that he had left his messenger bag out on the counter. He unlocked the door to the stall to pad over to his belongings. He pulled out a few of the bottles labeled shampoo, conditioner, rosemary body wash, juggling them in his arms and he pulled off their casing on the way back to the shower. The water was freezing, but steadily getting lukewarm. It didn't get much warmer so Arthur settled for the temperature and submerged himself under the steady flow. He sighed and closed his eyes, the sound of the shower and the water falling from his body echoed around the tiled surface of the bathroom. He slicked his choppy hair back and out of his eyes and just took a moment to enjoy the feeling of clean water rushing over his skin.

Alfred.

Arthur opened his eyes when the name sparked across his memory, finally recalling the blond boy's name.

Alfred F. Jones.

His teeth flashed in a sharp smile. He bent down to retrieve the bottle of shampoo on the floor and squirted a healthy amount into his palm. He let his mind wander about, bringing back memories and thoughts he'd had on that night as he lathered his hair with the sweet smelling suds.

Tall, blonde, vibrant, beautiful, and best of all, pure. He licked his lips and decided at that moment that going back up north would be more beneficial then staying in the horrid tropics.

He reached for the conditioner next.

Besides, it had been nearly a month. Plenty of time to recover from the amount of blood Arthur had drained from the boy. He'd found that he hadn't needed much blood to satisfy himself. With Alfred's blood being so pure, it was richer in the nutrition he needed.

The image of the boy fanned out below him flashed in his day dream. Alfred's flushed red cheeks loosing their color as he ravaged him of blood… Dilated space blue eyes half lidded and watching Arthur with a mixture of disbelief and terror... Pink lips pulled open in soft gasps... Tanned, healthy skin...

Alfred shivered under the water, his fingers paused in massaging his scalp. His body remembered Alfred well. The way the boy had felt quivering under him, and how his lips and mouth tasted like summer. The way the boy shied away and made the most pitiful sounds that shot straight to Arthur's cock. He growled low in his chest, the water feeling unbearably chilled at this point. He needed to see that boy again, if only for the pure pleasure of seeing him squirm beneath him. He was so fascinating. So different from the others. So genuinely handsome that Arthur unconsciously sped up his shower so he could get into fresh clothes and be on his way sooner.

Once he stepped out of the shower - leaving all the products behind for the next person to find - he regretted not looking through the store for some sort of towel to dry himself off with. No matter though. He dipped his head under a hand blower and proceeded to dry his hair under the loud machine. He ruffled his hair and had to press the button several times until his locks were completely dry. By that time, the rest of his body had air dried enough to comfortably put on clothing.

He unzipped the tightly packed duffle, the nylon sighing at the blessed release, and rifled through to find the black undershorts. He slipped those on first, wiggling them up his bare legs until they were in place. Next was the forest green, long-sleeved button up that was tucked neatly into the black slacks that were pulled up his legs and fastened snuggly around his hips. He glanced at the mirror as he buttoned up the cuffs around his wrists and frowned at how poofy his hair had gotten from the air blower.

He dove back into his messenger bag, looking at bottles before tossing them back in until he found a type a holding gel of some sort. He opened it and sniffed, dipping his fingers in. It wasn't as greasy as pomade and seemed to be thin enough to not make his hair look weird. He took a conservative amount to try it out and was forced to use a bit more when there was no noticeable difference. The gel did its job, taming his hair back so it looked less fuzzy and more presentable. He washed his hands and tossed the gel back into the bag.

He pulled out a vest that he had stolen off a mannequin, flipping it back and forth to observe the emerald green front and black contrasting back. He shrugged and slipped it on as well, buttoning the silver clasps. A silver watch, black belt, black socks, and black and white dress shoes were applied to the look before he stepped back to look at himself in the mirror.

"Not bad, old boy," he said out loud, nodding his approval.

He began to pack up before remembering something and dipped down to grab the black jeans he had been wearing. He fished through the pockets to find the Jolly Rodgers Zippo lighter, a few fifties to add to the money he had already collected that night, an expertly crafted fake ID with his face placed into the tiny picture frame, and a dull silver cross pendant.

The ID and S. Grants went into the wallet he stole and both it and the lighter disappeared into a pocket and the cross fastened quickly around his neck with an easy practiced snap of his fingers. He placed his lips to the relic and hid it under the fabric of his shirt and vest.

He grabbed his bags and looked at himself in the mirror one last time.

…

It didn't take Arthur long to find a cab, asking the driver politely to take him to the nearest train station. It was about sixteen miles away and when they pulled up to the man's destination he handed over a fifty and told the cabbie not to bother with the change. It was beginning to pick up at the station even this early in the morning.

He walked into the station and sauntered up to an information center to speak to a portly red headed women about purchasing tickets to get him to a location up north. The ID was used - "Yes, Thomas Harris is indeed my name." -, cash was forked over, and his baggage was cleared to be taken aboard with him. He received his one-way ticket and was told that his train would be departing at noon that day and to be at the station one hour before that time.

Not quite as early as he had wanted.

He looked down at his silver watch and calculated that he had about six hours to kill before his train left. He asked for the nearest book store and was told that a small one was just three blocks down the road; it would be opening at seven AM.

A one hour wait then.

Arthur found himself a seat and tucked in to wait for the store to open, his thoughts drifting back and forth between past memories and Alfred to entertain himself in the meantime.

…

_Three Days Later_

Alfred groaned and turned in his bed so his face was buried deep into his pillow. His head pounded and the loud ringing in his ears only made the pounding worse. God, he was never going to drink again. He peeked out to look at the clock on his nightstand, the red light blearing at him angrily. He closed his eyes and kept them closed before trying to open them slowly so he could decipher the numbers. They were too blurred to see and he had to grab the clock to pull closer so he could read it.

11:24 AM. Saturday.

He was thankful that he had had the sense to get blackout drunk on a night when he could sleep in. _No work today! _he sang happily in his mind before he cuddled back into his sheets.

It was about an hour later before Alfred finally pulled himself out of bed. Not on purpose, however. He was forced to get up when his phone jingled annoyingly in his jeans from last night. He nearly toppled over when he bent down to dig in his pants, pulling the cellular out to look at the caller ID.

_Work (Mrs. Reiner) _

He puffed his cheeks out. Typical.

He answered anyway and held the phone away from his ear when Mrs. Reiner greeted him happily.

"Good afternoon, Alfred!"

"Hey Debbie," He croaked into the phone. He wrinkled his nose at his voice and cleared his throat before speaking again. "What's up."

"Well..." she started, Alfred knew he wasn't going to like the next part. "Crystal just dropped her shift tonight at the last second… so I was wondering if you were free from 6 to 11 tonight to help pick up the slack?"

Alfred thought for a moment. He should be over his hangover by six, and extra money in his pay check was always good. He wandered to his nightstand and found his glasses there. At the same time, he didn't really feel like going in today.

"Have you tried Jamie?" he asked, scrubbing his face with his palm and yawning widely.

"Yes, Jamie can't make it, cause she's helping a friend with a project for college. And Louise is out of town."

He blew out a lungful of air, letting his shoulders sag.

"Sure, I'll cover tonight."

A relieved sigh and a very grateful reply practically jumped at him through the ear piece. He held the phone further from his head. It wasn't as if Mrs. Reiner's voice was atrocious, but with his hangover everything was blaring at him tenfold.

He said yes to a few more things said to him before a short good bye finally ended the conversation. He yawned again and looked down at himself. Orange and green striped boxers covered him. His body felt sticky and gross and he could smell cigarette smoke on him.

What happened last night?

He yawned and grabbed a towel to hop into the shower, figuring he would stress the little things later after he was dressed and eating breakfast. The house was quiet except for the sound of crockery clinking in the kitchen. Francis was up.

One uneventful shower later, Alfred was walking from the washroom with a towel wrapped firmly around his waist and feeling much better than when he had woken up. He then donned a pair of superman boxers, comfy jeans, and a T-shirt before he was walking down the hall, led by the unmistakable smell of cooked bacon.

Elizabeta was sitting at the table, her hair a tangled mess and her female body swamped by one of Gilbert's larger shirts and a pair of his cotton boxers with cartoon chickens running around the white background. She looked up from her big glass of water and half-finished omelet to give her best friend a lopsided smile.

"Good morning, slut."

Francis snorted a laugh as he expertly flipped what Alfred assumed was another omelet. The man was perfectly dressed for the day with his hair combed and washed and pulled back in a loose ponytail. He didn't remember much from last night, but he was pretty sure that they had all been pretty fucked up at the club. How Francis managed to get up the morning after and look so put together was absolutely disgusting.

Bastard.

Alfred scrunched up his face and sat at the table in front of an empty glass and preceded to pour himself cold water from the plastic pitcher on the table.

"Did I make bad choices last night?" he asked tentatively. He knew he must've. He tended to get a bit, as Lizzy so delicately called it, slutty and out of control when he was drunk. Though, everyone tended to get one way or another when they were sloshed.

Gilbert got stupid…er

Francis got Frencher.

Lizzy got clumsy and spewed promises she never intended to keep.

Alfred got slutty.

It was just how things worked.

Elizabeta smirked wickedly, bouncing the tip of her fork against full pink lips. Alfred sank in his chair, already feeling a bit guilty.

"Okay, so assuming that we've established that I was bad. Tell me what happened."

Francis chuckled and placed a perfectly fluffy omelet in front of Alfred with a few strips of bacon on the side and sat down next to Lizzy. Alfred wasted no time shoveling in the eggs and pork, moaning when he tasted the food. He temporarily forgot to be jealous of the older man's super ability to never have a hangover in lee way to make room for his adoration of his cooking skills. Francis's food simply never got old. It was always delicious.

"Ze best question would be what do you remember?" Francis began, leaning back in his chair casually. He had already eaten and had waited for the smell of food to drive out the other still sleeping inhabitants of the house.

"Not much," he said honestly. "I remember… Damien?"

Lizzy slapped the table and Alfred winced at the sharp sound. "Damien! See, Francis, I told you it wasn't Daniel."

"Oui," he said dismissively, waving a hand at Lizzy. "I knew it 'ad to have started with a D. Though personally, 'ee looked more like a Daniel."

"Is that all you remember?" Lizzy pushed.

"Everything is fuzzy." He rubbed his eyes under his glasses, closing them against the too bright room. He tried to recall and was rewarded with flashes of scantily clad bodies, loud music and flashing lights, mingling tequila and tongues, and French words whispered in his ear. He peeked at Francis through his fingers carefully. "Francis, did we make out?"

"Oui," he answered calmly, taking another sip from his own glass of water.

"Wait." That didn't make sense. "Who's Damien then?"

Lizzy was quick to jump in and supply Alfred with the details of that night, making sure to not spare Alfred anything, from the body shots to making out with several people. Alfred groaned and sunk further and further in his chair as the story progressed. Burying himself into his breakfast for a distraction.

He had really outdone himself last night.

"But hey, don't be upset." Lizzy smiled shrewdly, leaning over to nudge Alfred playfully. "At least you got to wind down. Speaking of which, you hardly ever suggest us going out. You usually have to be dragged out of the house. What's up?"

Francis perked up at this and looked attentively at his roommate with curious blue eyes.

Alfred shrugged and let his fork down gently to minimize the noise. "I don't know. Matthew and I kinda didn't have the most pleasant of conversations the other night."

"Ah." Francis nodded, as if that sentence had explained all of Alfred's actions last night, and excused them.

"Well?" Lizzy prodded, leaning forward towards Alfred.

Alfred shrugged and got up so he could grab another strip of bacon. He leaned against the counter and Lizzy got impatient as Alfred chewed quietly.

"_Well?_" She said again.

"He was just pestering me about Dad, no biggie." Alfred tried to show them that he didn't want to talk about it, but Lizzy was having none of that.

"Is your dad still really hard on you?" She went on, concern knitting her thin eyebrows together, green eyes gaining a bit more softness to them.

"I've just been ignoring his calls so he's telling Mattie to get me to call him." He knew he couldn't avoid his dad forever though; he needed to call him up at some point and talk to him. Even though he confided in Lizzy more than either Francis or Gilbert, all of them were well aware of the strained relationship between him and his father. It wasn't like he hated his father. Alfred loved his dad, but the man was overly pushy about Alfred becoming a lawyer, and having phone calls drilling him on his performance and complaining that he wasn't doing well enough weren't really rubbed Alfred the wrong way. After Mom died, Dad just got worse and worse.

"You should call him tonight," Lizzy started.

"Lizzy don't-"

"She is right, Alfred. You are not going to get anywhere running away from your problems," Francis interjected.

"I'm not running away." He was running away, and he knew it. He pulled his lips into a thoughtful line and looked down at his bare toes on the tile kitchen floor. "I'll call him."

"Why don't you just tell him that you don't want to become a lawyer, Alfred? I mean, he's your dad. He'll understand." Lizzy said, folding up her legs so she was sitting crisscross in her chair.

"I want to be a lawyer," Alfred said. "It's a good job."

"It's not what you really want to do though, Al," Lizzy pushed, frowning. Alfred just shrugged.

It wasn't really as easy Lizzy made it out to be. He didn't want to disappoint his dad by becoming anything but a lawyer.

"You know daddy issues are only hot when it's a girl, right?" A gruff voice grumbled from the living room.

The trio looked up to see Gilbert shuffling out of the living room and into the kitchen, scratching lazily at his navel. Alfred smiled at the distraction from the serious conversation and jumped on it.

"So you're saying that if I was a girl the problems with my dad would make me more attractive?"

"Bingo." Gilbert smirked, his pale red eyes flashing playfully. He sat in Alfred's abandoned chair and leaned over to kiss Elizabeta on the cheek. "So, what did I miss?"

Alfred was thankfully given a break from the conversation as Lizzy began chatting happily with her boyfriend. Alfred busied himself with making a pot of coffee and couldn't help but notice the looks that Francis kept giving him. Alfred chewed at his lip and left the pot to fill with coffee so he could grab his cell phone from his room. He entered in Mattie's number.

...

Arthur stretched when he finally got off the bus. The sun had already set on the shorter winter days up north and he was happy to finally be in the same town as Alfred. He hiked up his messenger and duffle bags as he looked around. Now, all he had to do was go and visit Alfred. Arthur distinctly remembered his way back to the young man's house.

It looked like he wasn't going to need to go looking for the boy, though. He did a double take at a passing vehicle. He could hardly believe his eyes when he saw a dull red jeep pulling into an Olive Garden across the road. He blinked, watching the blond college boy climb out of the used car and rush inside the restaurant with an ironed snowy white button up shirt, tie and black slacks.

Arthur smirked and looked both ways before crossing the street, his bags bouncing next to him as he lightly trotted.

Well, that was easier than expected.

* * *

><p>I am sooo sorry to make you guy wait this frickin long for everything. I truly can't apologize enough.<p>

I'm trying to find a job at the moment though as well as juggling some college responsibilities. Life just really got a good hold of me for a bit. I'm pretty sure I'm back to regular updates now though. Thank you all for being sooooo patient with me! I couldn't have asked for better readers.

Until next time my Lovelies.

Special thanks to Elle Eclaire for edits~


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